The Unconquerable Meryl Lane
by tweedledee123
Summary: Magic. Dark Wizards. Meryl is in the middle of it all much to her dismay. With power she doesn't want, she's the only link to beating a dark wizard; and she's stubborn enough to try. Set after HP series. Possible romance...we'll see what happens.
1. Prologue

Before this vast story of danger, adventure, love, struggle, and general excitement begins, it is necessary to provide something of an explanation.

First of all, Voldemort might have been the darkest dark wizard Europe had seen in a long time, but frankly, he never turned his evil eye to the Americas; the reason could be he simply didn't have the time to try and conquer two continents (even if he was immortal, Voldemort was _still _human). And even if that educated guess was not the reason, Americans weren't about to complain.

Secondly, and possibly more importantly, the magical American population and the European population did not interact as much as their muggle counterparts. It wasn't that they disliked each other, but simply that the two cultures had grown apart so much that it was just harder to try and meld together again. It was due, mostly, to the fact that there were few relatives that bridged the gap; those wizards and witches that came across during colonial times had stayed there, and those that stayed in England never bothered to leave. Communications were few and far between, leaving a large gap of information.

Consequently, the Americas saw the rise of their own dark wizard, one who could have given Voldemort a run for his money. The only difference, and a big one at that, was that Morgono (a name he derived from his very ancient descendent Morgan le Fey; but alas, we diverge) did not use Horcruxes to stay alive for eighty years, but a potion of his own devising, something similar to the famed Fountain of Youth. Also, he did not differ between muggles and wizards as Voldemort had (muggles being the dust of the earth). Morgono simply saw anyone who opposed him as his enemy, and since muggles were generally not aware of the magical world, he only killed them when he found a lull of resistance among witches and wizards, and so hardly affected the muggle world at all.

His time overlapped Voldemort significantly, but it must be noted that his powerful reign of chaos exceeded Voldemort by about twenty four years, due partly to going into hiding for sixteen of those years (probably to stew some more potion, which is suspected to be exceedingly difficult to make). When he came again, he was more powerful than ever, and with a right hand man at that.

This new wizard was called Castor. Those who survived his attacks reported he came from Europe somewhere, for his accent was not American. He towered over his shorter master by at least five inches, with swarthy skin and menacing black eyes. Many feared he was sure overpower Morgono, only to create an even more terrible reign.

The first five years after they returned where a frightening time, but soon they were challenged by a hero, something of the American version of Harry Potter, Abram Forth. Having lost both parents to Morgono at the age of eleven, he determined to become the best wizard possible to defeat them, and at the age of thirty, succeeded...in a manner of speaking. All that the magical population knew for sure was that Castor had been seriously wounded, and Morgono had disappeared somewhere, assumed dead. It was a good assumption since he was not heard from for at least two years.

Which now brings us to our story.


	2. Encounters

Merylyn Lane had always kind of hated her name.

Most importantly, Lane was such a dull surname, not at all apt to describe her family. Being the middle child of seven—with the rest being boys— life was not dull. Maybe scary, maybe frustrating, but never dull.

The biggest issue was that the spelling used for her first name had never been seen before by the general public, causing many embarrassing moments at the beginning of each school year as the teacher stuttered their way through. Her nickname at school had been "Merlin," propagated mostly by the staff (she was a bright student that caught on exceptionally quickly to most everything, making her a favorite of the teachers. Thankfully, mostly due to her brothers, Merylyn possessed equally good social skills, making her well liked—at least reasonably—among the students). Also, Merylyn had a vague suspicion that she was named after her mother's favorite actress, Marilyn Monroe. This was particularly disturbing because Merylyn saw her as something of an airhead; being the only girl out of seven, she had no time to act like an airhead herself. Mostly she was practical.

A typical summer day in the Lane household involved being rudely awakened at six in the morning by her three younger brothers, a routine that, no matter how many times it happened, Meryl (as she preferred to be called) couldn't adjust to.

"GET OUT." A pillow was aimed accurately at each, sending them giggling out of the room. She rolled over and checked the clock, though she already knew what time it was. It was even worse because it was a Monday.

After five minutes, in which Meryl had successfully dozed off again, her eldest brother walked in. "Mom says you're supposed to drive to the grocery store with me to pick up Mitchell's birthday cake."

She turned over to give him a glare. "Right now?"

"No, in the afternoon."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Her brother shrugged and grinned. "You're awake."

Another pillow was accurately thrown.

Ten minutes later, in which Meryl once again managed to doze off, loud screams of anger were heard downstairs, probably involving her two younger siblings. The roaring shout of her father rose above everything, telling everyone to be quiet or be quieted. At this point, she knew that sleep was impossible, and swearing loudly to no one in particular, Meryl stumbled out of bed to the bathroom.

Their bathroom was sufficient for any number of boys, but never big enough for six boys and a girl. After shooing out Marshall, who was in the middle of shaving (he could go use the other bathroom, for pete's sake), she got to work cleaning herself up.

The mirror was dirty from toothpaste and water being splashed at it, but despite everything, Meryl could see her grumpy and rather tired reflection in it. Her eyes were a pretty hazel color, very clear and bright, and creased up merrily when she laughed. It was the only characteristic that she truly enjoyed in herself. Though she had clear skin, it tended to blotch up when she was angry, and she didn't like smiling much with her mouth open because of a small gap in her front teeth. It wasn't noticeable unless pointed out, but she always felt like everyone around her could see it. The only other passable feature, as far as Meryl was concerned, was her hair, a lovely dark auburn color that came down in loose curls. However, coming from a family of all boys and having a mother that endured the same fate, Meryl never learned how to manage long hair, and consequently, kept it in a longer bob, a little below her chin, that was actually very flattering, combined with longer bangs that were continually brushed to the side.

Of course, being that it was early morning, Wednesday for that matter, Meryl's hair looked something like a rat's nest, a problem only a hot shower could resolve.

After a good twenty minutes in the bathroom—during which three different brothers came and insisted she get out with loud poundings on the door—she meandered down to get some breakfast, generally scrambled eggs, since it was the only meal that seemed to fill up everybody sufficiently.

The table was plenty big for the family, reminiscent of large medieval oak furniture. Seated at the head of the table was her father, and next to him her two oldest brothers, Max and Michael, with Max almost graduated from college. She sat herself next to Marshall, her closest brother (being only a year and a half older), with Miles on the other side and Marvin and Mitchell (the two youngest) fighting over the last piece of bacon.

"I'm making another package, you two," snapped her mother, whom Meryl closely resembled. "So quit fighting over it."

"If I have to break you two up one more time..." threatened her father, but he was already deeply engrossed in the newspaper.

"Do we have any OJ left? I can't find it in the fridge," complained Max.

"I'm going shopping today."

"Then why do I have to go to the grocery store with Max?" whined Meryl. "And what on earth are we getting that cake--"

Her mother whipped around, spatula in hand and a fierce glare in her eye. "I don't know what you're _talking_ about, Meryl."

Max gave the poor girl a strong shove from behind. "Yeah, geesh. What are you thinking? Why would I go to the store with you?"

Meryl pursed her lips and furrowed her brow. Mitchell's birthday was actually a week from now, but he was going to be gone at some type of camp, leaving tomorrow morning. Oh. Surprise birthday.

Why hadn't anyone bothered to tell her before this? She didn't even have a present!

Her patience bubbled to the surface, nearly broken, but didn't have much time to fester because she was going to be late to work if she didn't start getting ready soon. Stuffing the last of her eggs into her mouth, Meryl stood up and dashed up the stairs, glancing warily at the clock. Seven. She had thirty precious minutes alone to finish getting ready, and then Marshall would drive both of them to office where they worked.

Peeking out the window, she noticed it was a sunny day, with a hot sun to beat down on them. Meryl sighed, plopping herself down on the bed, and brought her knees under her chin. Days like this shouldn't be spent cooped up in an office, but out at the pool, or hiking. But duty called, and grudgingly, she got dressed in nice slacks and a button down shirt.

Being a senior in high school had made Meryl restless, more so than she usually was, and with one year left, her near future had the definite possibility of being boring. Marshall had graduated this year and was preparing to leave for college within the next three weeks, which only made the prospect of school that more depressing. He was her closest friend—not necessarily her best, but definitely closest.

She didn't see herself as that girl who wants to go on a grand adventure, or wanted a fairytale romance, or be a great heroine in some fabulous story. Meryl was too practical for that, a trait that came by her naturally, and was amplified by living in a house full of boys. "Happiness was what you made it," "life is never fair," "and just deal with it" were some of the common sayings she lived her life by. And to tell the truth, Meryl was perfectly okay leading a normal, basic life with the little things that made her happy, and she knew that she could be absolutely content to never have an interesting story to tell.

This didn't mean she enjoyed the same routine day after day. But she did like the basic course of her life; Meryl just wished it would skip the boring parts and fly to the more fun, aka, college part. But it would come eventually, and with that knowledge, she set her jaw stolidly and marched down the stairs to her waiting brother.

**

Work was the average, boring, tedious secretarial job Meryl had signed up for. Depressing, yes, but it was income, and at seventeen, she knew money made the world go round.

There had been the amusing instances; like when a horrid smell had finally been tracked down to a particular vent, in which a dead fish was rotting. Or when a coworker brought a dog she was babysitting, and it knocked over all the new computers. Or when her boss's belt broke in a middle of a meeting and showed the whole wide world he still wore whitey tighties. But a day never passed when four-thirty rolled around and Meryl heaved a sigh of relief as she stumbled out of the door into daylight.

Marshall worked at the same place, different floor, with finances or something. He was never specific about it, and Meryl never asked. But it did provide a guaranteed ride to and from work, which was where they were now having a very heated conversation about gifts.

"Just stop at the mall really fast!" insisted Meryl, attempting to gain control of the wheel. "I don't have anything for Mitchell! No one ever told met he party was today!"

"Then you're just as oblivious as he is, apparently," smirked Marshall. "Mom's only been talking about it every spare moment he isn't in the room."

"Then I wasn't there to hear it! I'm going to look like a horrible older sister who doesn't love her younger brother. I get enough crap from all of you as it is; you'd never let me forget this."

"Along with like the fifty other stupid things you've done. And he's what, ten?"

"Turning ten, and still fragile enough to care whether he gets gifts or not. Look! A toy store. Just let me slip in for like five minutes and I'll find some video game or action figure or something. You all like the same things anyway."

"No. You can get a present at the grocery store. We're headed there anyway."

Meryl narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I thought I was going with Max to get the cake."

Marshall held up a phone with the scribbles of a text on the screen. It was from Max.

_Taking Lisa out for a quick dinner. Get the cake with Meryl. Don't let Mom know._

"What a rat," grumbled Meryl, sitting back in her seat and glaring out the window. It wasn't like she was desperate to spend quality time with her older brother, but it bugged her that he managed to get away with more than any of the other kids. Like Lisa for instance. Mom hated her, thought she was a skank or something—Meryl agreed to an extent, but thought if Max wanted to waist his time with her, than so be it. Yet here he was, taking her out to dinner (probably her idea too; he was in chains to Lisa).

"Quit moping. Just because you can't hold down a boyfriend--"

"Shut up, Marshall. I don't see any girl lined up for you either, okay? And that's not what I'm angry about. Why do you always assume that?"

Marshall glanced knowingly at his younger sister, a smile still playing on his lips. "Whatever you say, M. But I'm not an oblivious brother."

"Just a stupid one," mumbled Meryl under her breath. "And you missed the turn for the store."

Swearing loudly—a habit all the brothers shared, but Meryl was intent on not doing—Marshall executed a u-turn and went to get the infamous cake.

**

Forty minutes later brought Meryl and Marshall back home, with not only a cake, but a small present (Meryl swore to herself that she'd get a more substantial one once Mitchell was back from camp). Unfortunately, the confrontational mood they had shared earlier had not dissipated, and by they time they were back, Marshall was yelling at her about something or other. In response, Meryl changed into some old jeans and ratty shirt and went on a hike. It was a good practice they all performed when frustrated or angry, and had resolved many fights that could have gotten much uglier.

"Dinner's at six forty-five," called out her mother from the kitchen. "And _don't_ be late."

_Yeah yeah_, Meryl thought to herself, kicking a stray rock from off the back porch. They were situated right by a cliff, with a hiking trail that went down to a sizable stream. It was a pretty place, clear, and relatively private. Perfect for clearing one's mind.

Once Meryl reached her favorite rock, she realized she couldn't quite remember what Marshall had been yelling at her about; but she knew she wasn't ready to go back and be civil. As was typical Lane behavior, she was slow to forgive. Not that she held grudges, it was just her temper had a hard time cooling down.

"It wasn't like I provoked him," she said to nothing in particular. "It was just a bad day at work."

"You came."

Meryl shrieked, jumping from her rock and toppling to the ground in a defensive position. The voice was not familiar, nor did it sound friendly. It had been wheezy, sickly, but vicious.

"Come here."

Meryl swallowed thickly and clenched her fists. Was it wise? To listen to the voice? Grabbing a nearby branch, she held it like a club and stood up. "Where are you?"

"Here."

The voice came from the left, behind a large clump of bushes and a pile of rocks. Hesitantly, she approached, but gave another shriek and dropped the branch when she saw the sight. A tall man, very old and hunched, was laid out on the ground, his shirt ripped at the chest to reveal a bleeding gash. "You need medical aid!"

"I'm dying. Come and give me a last request." His eyes were dark and sunken, foreboding. Initially, Meryl shied away, a feeling deep in her chest telling her that this wasn't good, but her sense of charity prevailed, and she knelt down, seeing what she could do. The first thing she noticed, however, was that he was dressed rather oddly, with a robe around him and very loose, maroon pants. He was holding a thin, flexible stick in his right hand.

"What do you want? I can call 911; they can get down here, you know, even though its a canyon. They did for my brother when he broke his leg."

"I don't want to be rescued," coughed the man. "I want you to do as I request. Answer my question truthfully, and then do as I say. You swear?"

Meryl wasn't sure what to make of the situation, and wrung her hands together frantically. The man seemed delusional, probably due to the severe loss of blood. He needed medical attention immediately. "Yeah, sure, just let me try and stop the bleeding, sir."

She reached down to use the long robe as a tourniquet, but a hand stopped her, a surprisingly strong and forceful hand. Giving a small scream, Meryl looked back at the man, who was now pointing the stick at their clasped hands. "Do you promise your willingness to aid me in any way possible? Yes or no, muggle!"

Meryl nodded fearfully, trying to pull her hand away.

"And do you volunteer your services willingly?"

Another petrified nod. This man needed help _now_.

An evil grin spread over his face, and he muttered something that caused strands to come from the stick, bright, glittery strands that wrapped around Meryl's wrist. She tried to pull back, but the strands held fast; during her attempt of escapes (she had lost all intent of saving his man), he had uncovered a knife and began to slit her palm. Horrified, she screamed again.

"Silencio," he said, and her voice went dead.

Her hand dripping with blood, the man, placed it on his still bleeding chest and muttered something else. A cold, stinging sensation began to crawl up Meryl's arm, making every part of her body seize up inhumanly; it came to her chest, gripping it with such force she thought she would explode, and when it reached her head, Meryl could feel herself blacking out. All this time, the man was muttering incantations, horrible words that mixed Meryl's reality into a strange and unreal place. Everything was spinning uncontrollably, lights flashing, her blood burning, her legs tingling...

And then it stopped. Suddenly, and without proper warning, Meryl came back into the present, feeling perfectly fine, normal, in fact. Maybe even a little better than before.

The man was smiling like a lunatic, and a cackle escaped his mouth, a mouth that was now foaming. The terrified feeling quickly came back to Meryl's stomach and with such force she didn't know she was capable of, she punched the guy in the face and stumbled away. He yelled out, a high pitched, alien sound, and clutched his face. For a small moment, she felt rather rotten, but when he turned his villainous gaze back on her, Meryl felt no regret. Whoever this was, he wasn't _right_.

"Come back and finish the spell!" he snarled, leaning over to grab at her. Meryl dragged herself farther away and managed to get standing again, shaking from head to toe.

"I'm calling 911 now, for cops or ambulance, I don't care," she stuttered, getting out her phone. But apparently she wasn't entirely recovered from that...that—well, she wasn't sure she wanted to know what had just happened. Black spots were everywhere in her vision, and soon she was back on the ground, eating the dust from the trail.

The next minute was blurry with indistinguishable bodies and voices. Out of nowhere had come a group of people, mostly men from the deep comments that were being made. A scream, the original man, was heard, loud and piercing above the ruckus of confusion. Someone was yelling about a wand, and a "Potentia Charm," whatever that was. With the strain being too much to bear, Meryl let herself slip into a state of blissful unconsciousness.

**

Johnny Hancock was not very old for an Agent—or Auror as they were referred to in the UK—of his standing and ability. He stood about six feet tall, lanky, and over all unimpressive but rather dashing for being twenty seven. His dirty blonde hair was uncontrollably wild around his head, but a winning smile made up for any messiness he possessed. He was just under the head of the Division of Magical Law Enforcement (Abram Forth), also making him one of the more powerful men in the government.

At the moment, he was sitting in the living room of the Lane family, a terrified and baffled group of seven people. Coming just before six, he had successfully ruined Mitchell's surprise party, but no one seemed to care anymore, having seen the state of Meryl when they brought her in. He had just broken the news that there was such a thing as magic in the world, the usual course of action when muggles are inevitability exposed to it. Out of his unfailing kindness, he allowed them a few minutes to soak it in.

"Magic, like the hocus pocus stuff?" blurted out a boy, the youngest from the look of it.

"Well, yes, but a little more refined than that," explained Johnny, deciding it was safe to continue. "We have a Department of Magic; technically, we're under the President, but we act as an independent body. About two percent of the population is magical, the largest in the world as far as we know. Of course with all the immigrants coming in, it's really no suprise--"

"I'm sorry," interrupted Mrs. Lane, her hair more frazzled than usual. "What does this have to do with my daughter and her...situation?"

Johnny looked over at the girl, now laid out carefully on the couch; she was pale, her dark eyebrows standing out against the whiteness of her skin. Otherwise, it would appear like she was just sleeping. "You want the short and sweet version, I suppose? Sorry, I like explaining these things to muggles. You know, non-magic folk."

"So, what happened to her?" asked Mr. Lane uncomfortably.

"Well," started Johnny, grimacing. "First I need to explain about a man named Morgono. Obviously, we have our own internal problems, magically speaking, and one of them is dark wizards that pop up. Usually, they don't cause much of a problem and we can resolve any issue within a couple of years. But...we do have strong ones that become extremely dangerous. I can't think of an acceptable comparison in muggle terms..."

"Hitler?" suggested Max.

"Yes, I suppose. Something like Hitler. Anyway, Morgono was a powerful dark wizard, and had been plaguing us for about eighty years. Two years ago, Forth was able to beat him in a vicious duel, causing Morgono to disappear. We had been tracking him, but muggle devices have a hard time working around constant magic without proper charms."

"Wait, who conquered this guy?" asked Marshall, who was sitting near Meryl.

"Abram Forth. A good friend of mine, and the head of the Division of Magical Law Enforcement. He's something of a hero now."

"And how were you tracking him? You said something about a muggle device," piped up Michael.

"Yes, well," laughed Johnny, "American wizards and witches are unusual in the sense we use muggle contraptions constantly, something our European counterparts don't quite understand. Abram was originally supposed to just attach a GPS to Morgono; it turned into a deadly duel where he won. Quite an accident, really, but it was worth it. Anyway, when your daughter stumbled upon him, we had just gotten the coordinates."

"And what happened to her?" asked Mrs. Lane, worry etched deeply in her face.

Johnny shifted uncomfortably on his feet and grimaced. "Well, its hard to know exactly. Morgono was a great experimenter with charms, twisting them to his own vile purposes. When we did a raid of his house a month ago, we found a large book with page after page of charms he had manipulated. It seems to have been going on before he rose to power, and some of the first charms we read were actually useful and rather harmless. But toward the end...well, it was some really dark stuff. Things any reasonable, sane, and good-meaning person would never even dream of touching. One of those charms was the Potentia Charm, and we think he performed most of it on your daughter."

All the members of the Lane clan glanced at each other fearfully, their hazel eyes flashing with impatience as to what had happened to their sister and daughter. "What exactly is this charm?" asked Mr. Lane, finally.

"We're not entirely sure. It involves some type of power transfer, and what exactly that power is, we don't know. Whatever the case, it was given from Morgono to your daughter."

"So, she's like...diseased?" sputtered Miles, turning a nasty grey color.

"No, no," reassured Johnny. "She's perfectly fine."

"Except she's enchanted," growled Marshall.

"No, not really. She's normal...just..."

"Not," finished Max. "We got it. Now how are you all going to fix this?"

This was the bad part of the job for Johnny, the part where he had to say they could to nothing. It wasn't often, and almost never to muggles, but he knew that it had to be. "This was Morgono's invention. I'm not sure that there's a cure. If it's any comfort, the charm isn't deadly."

"So where does that put us?" asked Mr. Lane.

Johnny shrugged. There really was nothing to be done until the girl woke up.


	3. A Dream and What Came of It

AN: Hello to everyone! If any of you are readers of my other stories--_This ain't NM_ and _Given_--do not fear, I have not abandoned them! Essentially, I got a new computer, but not the same word processor, so I haven't been able to transfer everything yet. Once I get that situation fixed, those stories will be back on track, but it won't be happening until September, unfortunately.

Now for my newest story. This is a bit of a change for me--I haven't tried writing outside of the POTC world until now, and frankly, I'm a little worried I'm going to screw something up. POTC was so easy to write for because so much was undefined, and the characters flowed so naturally. In HP, however, there is much more set up already, which I sometimes find constraining; however, I think this particular story is going to work. Mostly this is because I have set it after all the original series, allowing me a little more leeway.

As a fair warning, I do like to do a bit of a wind up as far as explanations go, but even if it seems slow right now, I promise that it will be getting more interesting. Just give me a couple more chapters to set up the stage for a truly fanscinating story!

Thank you to those who took the time to read it, and the one who reviewed! More are always appreciated! If you have any questions concerning characters (which there are a lot of), plot, etc, do not hesitate to write them in your reviews, for I will answer all.

Enjoy.

* * *

Meryl opened her eyes to voices. But the voices were unfamiliar. And it appeared that everything around her was dark...well, no, there was a light to her left, but it was dim. Frustrated, she turned—or tried to turn. Her head didn't seem to want to function properly.

"These are all the followers you can muster?" seethed a low, raspy, but very rich voice. Meryl tried to look at who was speaking until she came to a horrid realization. The voice was coming from her.

She (the man? Meryl was too confused...) turned around to face about twenty people, split into two groups, one of five, with the remaining in the other. A pair, it looked like brother and sister, was holding a tall blonde man in front of them. "He's the last one to join...with some persuasion. It seems like everyone else...has sneaked away," explained the brother.

Meryl didn't have time to study the blonde man, whose mouth was looking sour and frustrated (she couldn't hardly see any faces except for the siblings), for her eyes turned to another group of men. "Well, Redding? What do you think?"

A buff, black haired man stood up and walked over to the other group and sized up each man or women; there were only three women in the group, and the other one was sitting with the group of five, twisting her blonde hair lazily around her wand. At this point, Meryl's body turned away to face the wall again.

"I've heard of you," said Redding, but Meryl had no idea to whom he was referring to. "Aren't you in the Ministry?"

"Yes. I have to make a living somehow. And I'm best qualified for that job."

"You could be a snitch. You've brought down plenty of dark witches and wizards here. You even made headlines even in the States. Including Rutherford over here. We had to bust him out of Azkaban a week ago."

"Or I could be a double agent. Haven't you even considered the possibility of having someone on the inside? It's something no one else can offer."

"That doesn't put me at ease in the least, not after having you lock me away. You Slytherin bastard!" cut in another voice; Meryl suspected it was Rutherford.

"You just go to show that Slytherins aren't the only ones tempted by power. You were a Ravenclaw, no?"

"The only reason my father didn't ever join the Dark Lord was because he knew he'd be treated unfairly as a non-Slytherin. And he would have been much more loyal than your father, or family for that matter, ever was. Had a nice chat with him while I was locked away."

"Stop bickering like school children," snapped the deep voice. Meryl was forced to turn around again. The two men who had been fighting were nose to nose now, the blonde noticeably taller than the other, pudgier brunette.

"My father made mistakes. I can assure you I won't be making the same ones," sneered the blonde before he backed away.

Rutherford opened his mouth to retort, but the deep voice interrupted again. "Whatever past history has happened, it is behind us. You are my followers now, not this Voldemort. I give my full trust willingly to every body in this room—and I expect full obedience in return, or I can assure you, the punishment will be harsh and unbearable."

Rutherford and the blonde backed away from each other, and Meryl noticed a flitting look of worry pass over the face of the blonde, but it was so fast she wasn't sure if she had read it correctly.

"I think we have enough of a force to be reckoned with," said Redding, returning to his group. "But I'm against attacking England first. Or the States. Both are too prepared for a group this size. We need to have more followers, unknown and powerful, before we can really cause any damage. I suggest we look toward Russia, or the Balkans."

Meryl could feel herself smile, but her true emotion was frantic. What what going on? Who were these people? And what on earth were they planning to do?

"Excellent idea, Redding. I was thinking the same thing, in fact. Now--"

A horrified yell came from the blonde girl in the group of five; she was standing up now, her wand pointed up. "Effrego!"

The ceiling above broke in half and came crashing down. When the dust had cleared, a group of three men were seen on the floor, all now securely tied up by two other wizards. "Spies!" hissed the blonde lady, coming up to stare one of them in the face. "Ah, darling Joshua Irving. So nice to see you again. And who are these friends you brought?"

"Vanessa McKenny," spat the middle man, whom she had been addressing. He seemed to want to say more, but just couldn't get it out.

"Still can't get over your parents' deaths, I see?" she laughed quietly and flashed her eyes at Redding knowingly. He was grinning openly, fingering his wand.

"I suppose you three were sent by the Department?" asked a lanky, balding man, who was also from the group of five. None of the three men said a word, though one was looking very sick.

"They're not going to say anything, Mayson," chuckled Vanessa, stroking Joshua Irving on his face. "They're _good_ agents."

Meryl's eyes turned to Redding, who's face had undergone a severe change of features, from glee to worried. "If the Department did send them, that puts us in a bad position." He looked over at Meryl. "We need to wipe their memories if we're going to maintain our secrecy."

"What, you're not going to torture them first? Or kill them?" asked the sister. The second, larger group, was now made up of confused, and some disappointed, faces.

"What good does that do?" sneered Redding. "Especially if the Department is expecting them back? Mayson can perform an unbeatable Memory Charm. We use it all the time. That's the problem with you lot—Voldemort was too concerned with causing harm and making a name for himself to worry about the little details that keep you safe. This is why Morgono stayed in power for so long, and why Castor is still here today." He looked at Meryl, smiling grandly.

But it seemed Meryl, or Castor, whoever he was, wasn't paying attention. Instead she (he?) was staring intently at Joshua Irving. Images flashed through her mind, none of which made sense, but involved many other people dressed in strange robes and holding wands. Words were being said, but Meryl couldn't seem to keep up with everything. It was like seeing a TV show through a window.

"The Department knows nothing. This was a mission he and these two went off on their own."

The room became silent, and Vanessa smiled evilly. "Just like you, Joshua. Always has to be a hero, be different. I don't suppose you'll let us know _why_ you're not telling the Department?"

Once again, Joshua made no movement. The other two men were looking visibly sick, both seeming to be young. Actually, all three were fairly young, maybe only early thirties.

"They've thought us dead, or not a threat. Only Irving here thought we might pose a problem. And it appears these two insisted they come along." Meryl felt herself grin again--she really wanted to scream.

Mayson strutted up like a turkey, kicking one in the chest. "Not such a picnic now, is it? Not such an adventure. I'd bet my wand you two are fresh out of the Agency, just _dying_ to get some fame." He laughed, a high pitched, maniacal sound and Meryl flinched mentally. She could hear the double meaning, and the thought nearly made her sick.

"Well, Sir?" asked Redding. "The Department knows nothing of them? What's a little fun?"

"We've been deprived for too long," hissed Vanessa, now circling like a hawk.

"Have at it. I don't want to see their remains when I come back."

Meryl glimpsed two terrified faces and one defiant, almost knowing face. Castor turned away to a door, but even before he left, the screams could be heard. He glanced at a mirror, showing a dark face, unshaven and chisled. Behind his reflection were the three victims, writhing on the floor, curling inhumanly. And then the blood began to flow, steadily, fast, and thick.

Meryl screamed.

The next moment, she was in her living room, apparently laying down on the couch. She was still screaming, and once realizing it, stop immediately. Four faces appeared above her, three unrecognizable, but the fourth being Marshall.

Meryl had never been one for tact, and after staring unabashedly at the three unknowns, asked, "Who are you?" Her voice came out raspier than usual; it was general described as "gravelly," but now it seemed like she had, indeed, been eating rocks.

A dirty blonde stuck out a hand and smiled. "Johnny Hancock. These are my associates: Henry Irving, Martin Yates, and Jeremiah Pack." When she didn't take the hand (she was still lying down, and it seemed odd), he removed it.

Meryl looked at Marshall for some help, but his face was unnaturally blank. "And what are you doing here?"

"Well, we've been doing some poking around, but mostly just been waiting for you to wake up," answered one of the men.

"How long have I been out?"

"Two days. Its about midnight now. My name is Johnny Hancock."

"Lovely." Meryl sat up, expecting to feel utterly rotten, but actually seemed fine. "I'm starving. I don't suppose you saved me some dinner?"

Marshall grinned. "There's spaghetti in the fridge."

She nodded, but didn't actually get up—she had noticed the clothing of the other three men, and while generally it looked normal (Levi jeans, button up shirts, etc.) they were all wearing dark purple robes that could have passed for a floppy coat. But she knew better--it was the same type of coat (cloak?) as in her dream. In one smooth motion, she had leaped from the couch, grabbed Marshall and dragged him away. "Go away now. And don't you dare touch me with your...your...your wands!"

The three only looked marginally surprised at her outburst. And Marshall only pried off her hands and lead her back to the couch to sit. "I'll go get you something to eat. I think you need to talk to these people."

"Don't leave me! They...they..." Meryl's eyes flashed dangerously, trying to think of a way to defend herself, thinking of what she had just witnessed. Seeing a wand exposed on the hip of one of the men, she lunged for it, only to be grabbed by Johnny.

"Calm down Miss Lane. We aren't going to hurt you. We're only here to help. But...it would be good to tell us what you were screaming about a moment ago."

"No, I want an explanation _now_," she seethed. "The whole lot of you are wizards, aren't you?"

Johnny's eyebrows disappeared into his messy hair. "Yes, we are."

"And that man who I met on the trail...he was a wizard."

Johnny nodded slowly. "You seem pretty aware of everything for having just woken up. Would it surprise you if we said there were lots of wizards in the country, and the world?"

Meryl shook her head, grimacing.

The three men glanced at each other, and one muttered something to Johnny. "Well...with that said, I best tell you that you've had a nasty encounter with a dark wizard. He's dead now, so he can't hurt you, but he did something to you, and that's what we're here to figure out."

"I applaud you on being so vague," ground out Meryl, glaring at all of them.

"You don't trust us, do you?" asked Johnny quietly. When she shook her head, he sighed and rubbed his nose. "Listen, we are here to help you, but if we're going to get anywhere, we really need to be able to trust each other. We need to know what damage the charm has caused to you, if any--"

"How much of the wizarding population is bad?" spat out Meryl.

"What? You mean criminals?"

"Yes. Wizards who would hurt others."

"Our society is no different than yours. Most everyone is well meaning, and then we have a few bad eggs. Why on earth are you asking?"

Meryl's initially aggressive expression softened to worry and confusion. "Oh." She sighed again and rubbed her head. "I'm sorry, I've been really defensive for no reason. It was just...oh, it was just a dream. And I _am _still tried."

"What dream?" asked one of the other men, a built guy with a thick mustache. The other two looked at Meryl intently.

She explained the basics of what she could remember, which was just about everything, much to her dismay. "Toward the end, three men showed up. It seemed like they were spying, but they were doing it without the "Department" knowing. It didn't make much sense to me."

Johnny sucked in his breath. "What color robes were they wearing?"

"Well...I think they're the same as yours. Purple."

The mood in the room shifted quickly from interest to fear. "What were their names?"

Meryl frowned. "The people in the room only recognized one. Joshua Irving. The other two seemed to be...new."

The third man blanched, and Meryl noticed how much he looked like Joshua from the dream; both brown hair, square, strong jaws, and light honey eyes. "What happened to Josh?" he asked quietly.

Meryl swallowed. "I...I think they tortured them. And then...killed them. That's when I woke up screaming."

No one spoke for a while, though the last man sat down and held his head. Finally, Johnny stood up and took out a cell phone. "Okay, Marshall, you best tell your parents that we're about to make their house a base for this investigation. We'll have about twenty agents here; we'll be putting protective charms around the perimeter, but they can leave and come as they please for now. This situation just got a lot more serious. Meryl, are you sure you heard the name 'Voldemort' in your dream, as you just said?"

Meryl nodded, standing up herself. "What's going on? I don't understand."

Johnny ignored her and turned to the man with the mustache. "Pack, get back to Division and tell them you need a portkey to the British Aurors ASAP. It sounds like Castor is recruiting from there."

"Wait, you know this guy? I didn't even tell you his name!" said Meryl.

"Castor was the right hand man of the wizard who attacked you, Morgono. I'll explain once we get everything up and running here. Henry...why don't you get home?"

Henry stood up, his eyes red. "No, I can help. Josh was too reckless for his own good. I was expecting something like this."

Johnny shook his head. "Forth won't let you work in this condition. Go home, get some sleep. Come back tomorrow, we'll be needing you then." Henry paused, nodded, and then disappeared into thin air. Meryl opened her mouth to ask what the heck had just happened, but Johnny was talking rapidly into the phone.

"Hi, Forth? We have a situation. That Potentia Charm I was telling you about seems to be stronger than we thought. And Castor is alive and working on bring up another resistance. I'm in southern Colorado at the moment, and need the rest of my crew and Evans crew to be here pronto. I'll update you on everything once you get here; we'll have a conference or something. There's a lot of explanation that needs to be happening. I'll see you in ten."

**

Meryl stared blankly at the oak table in front of her. Ten minutes after Johnny's call—exactly—about thirty people at appeared simultaneously, some carrying bags and strange instruments. Others rushed out the door and began waving their wands around, and the rest seemed to be fiddling with the strange equipment. Within a half hour, the entire house had been turned into a FBI base...magically speaking. Apparently, the proper name was the Division of Magical Law Enforcement, but everyone just called it the Agency.

At the moment, she and the rest of her family, along with about ten other men and women, were sitting around the table. Johnny had enlarged it to fit everybody for the conference he was intent on having. She was sitting next to him, with Marshall on her other side. Johnny was next to a tall, lean fellow with curly blonde hair, long nose, and wide dark brown eyes. This was Abram Forth. After all the compliments Johnny had been spouting about the man, Meryl had expected him to be a brother to Superman, but no such luck.

"Okay, this meeting is in session. Hartford, you taking the minutes? Good. We are here to discuss the recent capture and death of Morgono, and the rise of Castor. To the Lane family: if you don't understand something, feel free to interrupt and ask a question. You have every right to know what is going on. What's the news I don't know, Hancock?"

Johnny cleared his throat and glanced at Meryl. "You've been updated on her condition, yes? We determined Morgono had indeed performed a Potentia Charm. We don't still don't know the extent of the damage—or if it's damaging at all—but after tonight I have a hypothesis. Our records show that both Castor and Morgono were supreme occulmists, and we had suspected that they were using it to communicate instantly."

"What's an occulumist?" asked Marvin. Mrs. Lane looked down at him severely, but Johnny smiled.

"Occulemncy is the ability to see into other people's heads, sometimes to the extent that you can see what they're doing at that given moment. Morgono and Castor were partners in their deeds, and no doubt made that connection very strong for their purposes."

"What does that have to do with Meryl?" asked Forth, leaning forward.

"When Meryl woke up, she told us about a dream she had—all from the point of view of Castor. Now, because of this information, I suspect that the 'power' Morgono was trying to transfer was actually his own soul, meaning all of his magical power has been transferred to her."

"Wait, I have his _soul _in me?" gasped Meryl. Every person around the table stared at her in horror, but Johnny interrupted again.

"No, not all of it. Only the part with the magical abilities, and maybe some of his memories. When we got there, at the time of the performance of the charm, it seemed like Morgono had only finished the first part. You remember the page describing the charm in the book, right? It spoke of two parts, the second being he rips out her heart and replaces it with his own. Essentially, it would give him the power to control her body. Another way to become immortal."

Meryl's mother gasped loudly, and Abram turned to Meryl. "I'm guessing he didn't rip out your heart?" Meryl shook her head, not quite able to form words, too shocked to realize how close to death she had come. "Then it would be an accurate assumption to believe Miss Lane is full and completely herself, the only difference being she now had magical abilities. Where's the danger then, Hancock?"

Meryl had a fleeting feeling that out of the two, Johnny was certainly the brighter one. Even _she_ saw the danger that was posed, and said as such before Johnny opened his mouth. "That mind connection goes both ways, doesn't it? That means Castor can see what I'm doing, and he'll figure out pretty quickly I'm not Morgono. And because they were partners, there's a chance he knows about the Potentia Charm, right?"

Johnny turned a gleaming smile to her. "Exactly! The only advantage we have is that it seems Castor thinks Morgono to be dead, because he's now acting solo. But once he figures out this mind connection is still strong, he'll no doubt try to hunt you down, and then use you to his own devices."

"Let me get something straight," cut in another man (or agent, as Johnny said they were to be called). "This girl—a muggle—now has the same magical abilities as the strongest dark wizard the States has ever seen?"

Johnny nodded. "Yes. Now, I have a personal opinion on what should be done next, but--"

"Oh, just spit it out. I know you're just about ready to wet your pants to do it anyway," grumbled another man (Meryl remembered his name to be Garth Billings), rubbing his chin. He sat on the other side of Forth.

"Well, I think she needs to be trained with this magical ability. We know of no cure to the charm, and we know that this power is completely at her command. She's no danger to us, or any other person for that matter...unless she misuses the power."

Forth frowned. "She's not really a witch..."

"I am now," Meryl grumbled. "Not that I chose to be. Personally, I would like to know how to control all this...stuff. And what if this Castor guy comes after me? I want a way to protect myself."

"It's the only reasonable option. Common sense, really," piped up a smaller women with dark eyes and dark hair, probably from Latino descent.

"We need to do more than just tell her what she can do now," explained Forth. "Somebody has to actually teach. And at the same time, protect. The Agency is able to protect fine, but we aren't cut out to teach anything."

"What about a mentor?" suggested Billings again.

"Listen, I still have my senior year left," said Meryl. "I'd like to graduate."

"That's not an option. It's too dangerous for you to be around any large group of muggles. Even your own family. You need to be integrated into the wizarding world if you want to keep any type of anonymity from Castor," countered Forth, leaning back into his chair. "Now that you can perform magic, you do need to be around others who can, so nothing looks suspicious."

"We could send her to Pacific Academy," suggested the same women. "She'd be with kids her own age group. And the teachers there are more than qualified for teaching her."

"No, Mendez," disagreed Forth. "The Academy isn't cut out to stop an attack. None of the magical schools here are. We wanted them to be as integrated into the muggle community as possible, and this is what we get. Totally defenseless schools. We're lucky Morgono never focused his wrath on them."

"Then where on earth could we send her?" answered Mendez, folding her arms. "As a mother, I am highly against putting her into solitary confinement. The only way she's going to deal with this rationally is with other kids her own age."

"I would be against it as well, being her actual mother," said Mrs. Lane. "She's never dealt well with being alone."

"Can I say something?" asked Meryl, her frustration plain in her face. "I don't want to be going to any school but the one I've been going to for the past three years. Since that apparently isn't an option, I want an alternative to graduating in the muggle world. I don't think having a 'mentor' is really an answer."

"She has a point. As a witch now, she's going to have to start living in the wizarding world," conceded Johnny. "If she goes to school, she can test in all the N.E.W.T.s, and then be considered 'graduated' in the wizarding community. We need to think a little more long term than just the next year here. Her whole life has just been turned around, and it's our job to make sure everything goes smoothly."

Meryl smiled at Johnny, and he grinned back. She didn't know him very well, but she certainly liked his style at the moment.

"Technically, it's the Division of Internal Affair's job, but I get your point," sighed Forth. "So we need to send Miss Lane to a school, but at the same time, protect her from Castor. The States don't have a system that can do that. We go anywhere, and the press will be hot on our heels."

Two pops were heard outside, followed by two voices talking rapidly. "Oh, Pack is back with an Auror," exclaimed Johnny.

"Great, now I have to deal with an Auror," grumbled Forth. "Those Europeans can be stinking critical of our methods, and rather strange, you know," suddenly addressing Meryl. "Don't say anything much unless we okay you. Got it?"

Pack and another man walked through. Where Pack was buff, the man was lanky, but they both shared thick black hair. There was a significant age gap between the two (Pack couldn't have been older than mid-thirties) and the man had noticeable age lines around his eyes and mouth. But he seemed friendly enough, and didn't look that strange.

Forth stood up suddenly, knocking the table a bit. "Mr. Potter! What a pleasure!" His expression was genuinely surprised.

Johnny leaned over, grinning. "Ignore his last comment. Abram practically worships _Harry Potter_."

Meryl looked at the man with a renewed interest, trying to figure out what was so special about the man. He didn't look particularly important, but neither did Forth, and he had taken out Morgono. Both he and Jeremiah sat down on the other side of the table, but right where they could see Meryl. "That's the girl I was talking about," explained Pack.

"We've been discussing what to do with her," stated Johnny loudly, "and have decided to send her to a school. The only problem is the American schools aren't fortified if they were to be attacked, and her safety certainly comes before any education."

"Send her to Hogwarts," said Mr. Potter, as if it were the most obvious course of action. "Professor McGonagal has battled her share of dark wizards, and it _is_ set up for an attack. It's the safest place I know of. I'm sure she'd accept Miss Lane without question, especially if the situation was explained."

The table was silent for a moment, with a lot of head-nodding going around.

Meryl chewed at her bottom lip, a habit for when she was unsure. That was fast. But what the heck was 'Hogwarts'? What was a hogwart, for that matter?

"Now that that's been cleared up," continued Johnny, "we settle in for some more grave news. The information from Meryl's dream. I'm glad you're here, Mr. Potter, because this is the part that concerns you a great deal."

"Please continue, Hancock," urged Forth.

"I think Meryl should tell us about the dream." He turned to her, smiling again. "This time, go into extreme depth. _Every _detail is critical."

Surprised at being put on the stop, Meryl flushed a little, but sat up straighter and began talking, hoping she remembered everything as clearly as before, though even now she knew she was losing some of the memory. "Well...I was in a dark room...as Castor."

"Occulemecy?" asked Potter, his eyebrows knitting together. Forth nodded, and the former man grimaced.

"There were two groups of people. One group was only of...five. There was a man named Redding, a women named Vanessa McKenny, and a man named Mayson."

"Known supporters of Morgono," cut in Johnny, mostly to fill in Mr. Potter.

"In the other group were about...ten to twelve people. The only name I heard was Rutherford, but I'm pretty sure that two other people must have been related—probably siblings. The only reason I say this is because I saw them clearly."

"I think I can supply some names," said Potter. "We had a break out of Azkaban three weeks ago, and Rutherford disappeared about two weeks after. It included the Carrow siblings, Dolohov, the Lestrange brothers, Mulciber, and Goyle."

Pens went at the table rapidly as many agents jotted down the names.

"What happened exactly?" asked Forth, turning back to Meryl.

"Umm...the two siblings were holding a third man between them. I guess he had been recruited, but not exactly willingly. He was blonde...tall...he didnt' look very happy, from what I could see of his face. Castor asked Redding what he thought of the new group...and Redding recognized the blonde as a worker for a ministry."

Faces all around the room tensed up. "Good grief, we have innumerable blondes working at the Ministry. How in the world are we supposed to know who?" muttered Potter, gritting his teeth.

"Well," continued Meryl hesitantly. "Rutherford recognized him and called him a Slytherin bastard, if that helps at all."

Potter became a lot more focused. "Slytherin? That narrows it down quite a bit. What color blonde was his hair?"

"...What?"

"Dark blonde, light blonde...you know. Tone. Color."

Meryl creased her brow. "I...guess a honey blonde, darker. I couldn't tell in the light. Everything was dark. Even if you were to show me faces, I couldn't tell you who was who. Except for Vanessa and Redding. I saw their faces very clearly. And of course the siblings."

"That's okay—we know the faces for the five originals. Do you have names for us, Potter?" asked Forth.

"Um...Yaxley for sure. And Travers...Jugson, I think he had a couple blonde sons...and of course, Malfoy." He sighed uneasily at the name, looking rather troubled. "But, for what it's worth, Malfoy's hair isn't that color at all."

"Wait, you're naming previous Death Eaters," stopped Johnny. "How do we know that this was a Death Eater? Rutherford wasn't, but he was there anyway."

Potter swore under his breath. "You're right. It could be anybody. We're just going to have to tab all of the blond Slytherins we know, and there's a bloody lot...not that I want to. There are plenty who are good, hard-working ministry employees. We have five in the Auror department, including Malfoy, who's one of the best we've got. There's going to be an uproar if it's known we're tracking them."

"It's a risk we need to take," concluded Forth. "Small in comparison to what Castor could do. What else is there, Meryl?"

"Um, Redding was talking about what places they were going to be attacking. He didn't want to go after Britain or the US since they were prepared for a big onslaught or something. They were thinking Russia or the Balkans, and Castor agreed with him. It was to create a larger following."

More scribbling on paper.

"After that, Vanessa screamed and broke the ceiling, and then three men came tumbling out. I guess they were Agents."

Forth snapped his head up and looked at Hancock. "You hadn't mentioned any of this."

Johnny looked at his hands. "I was waiting for now."

"Who was it?"

"Irving. He had approached last week saying he and the Velt twins wanted to investigate some illegal smuggling between us and England, and they might be awhile. He wasn't very specific, but I knew there was something going on as far as smuggling went, so I said go ahead." Johnny looked extremely guilty, and Meryl noticed some tears forming. "Damn good agent too. But..." he paused and swallowed down a sob. "...reckless. He knew we wouldn't let him go if he mentioned Castor's name, especially with us being so close to Morgono."

Forth sighed and rubbed his temples. "And then what?"

Meryl bit her lip again. "They...they tortured them. And...killed them."

The kitchen was very quiet, filled with somber men and women. As if sensing the mood, thunder could be heard in the distance.

"How is Henry taking the news? I don't see him here."

"I sent him home. Said he could come back whenever he wanted to, as long as he was stable."

"Has news gotten to his wife?"

"No. I figured it would be better to let her sleep through the night first."

Meryl glanced out the window; she had forgotten it was only just past one in the morning.

Forth nodded in agreement. "Very well. Mendez, when it reaches seven, I'm going to need you to go tell her. In the meantime...agents, we have an issue on our hands. Yes, Morgono is dead. Whoopee. Castor is on the move and we know he's hard to catch. We were lucky with Morgono. And we might be lucky again...since Miss Lane has such good insight to what is happening--"

"No. You are not using my daughter like that," growled Mr. Lane, standing up. "She's only seventeen!"

"An adult by magical standards. It's up to you, Meryl," said Forth, waving his hand airly. "Are you going to help us?"

Meryl didn't need to think long for an answer. "Uh, yeah. If I'm stuck with these crappy dreams or visions or whatever, I might as well be doing something good with them. And Castor is a creep. I don't want him winning."

Marshall smiled next to her, shaking his head a little.

"Excellent! I believe this ends--"

"Wait, how are we going to be contacting her without making a scene at school?" asked Johnny. "We need to information as soon as it comes to her."

"And I don't want her alone at this school," said Mrs. Lane. "I want her protected."

Meryl wanted to give her mom an embarrassed look, and _really _wanted to say, 'I don't need protection', but knew it would be fruitless. Her mother could be so worrisome...

"True. Hancock, your new assignment is to stay with Miss Lane at school. You're young enough to pass for a student still. You'll get information from her and pass it along to me."

"Wait, I'd be more comfortable if one of her family was with her," insisted Mrs. Lane, studying Johnny with her eyes, and frowning. "_We_ need a way to talk with her. I'm sure Max would be willing—"

"Mom! I only have one more year of college! You can't make me--"

"Your _sister _is in danger, and you don't want to protect--!?"

"I want Marshall to come," piped up Meryl, looking over at his face; she knew him well enough that she could tell he was just begging to go. "He hasn't started college yet."

"Wait, we didn't agree to any of this," corrected Forth. "He's not a wizard, he can't go to the school."

"I think she should have family with her," said Potter quietly, earning complete stillness in the entire room. "This is going to be rough, and she needs someone to support her. I was lucky enough to have two good friends who never deserted me, but that was only after _years _of going through our own battles. Meryl isn't going to have that at school. She's jumping in on the last year, where everyone already has things...together."

"High school is a rough place," agreed Johnny. "I second that opinion."

Forth looked somewhere between wanting to argue and wanting to comply, and eventually gave in to the later. "Fine. I'll leave that little detail for you to work out Hancock. You're head of this operation now. Evans, I want to be talking about strategy on how we're cornering Castor. We need people going to the Russian ministry and warn them whats going on. Lanes," he said, turning around to face the family, "we're going to need to use your house for only as long as Meryl is here. Safety measures for all of you. But in the meantime, feel free to go to bed. Everything here on out will be Agency stuff. Thank you for your...support."

Meryl stumbled up to bed, her two youngest brothers bickering again, too tired to care much about what was happening anymore. She just wanted to sleep.

On the bright side, she probably wouldn't be going back to work anymore.


	4. To England

AN: Hello, everybody! Sorry for taking so long to update; I'm packing for college, and that has been taking away most of my attention. Once I'm actually settled, however, the updates should be more regular. Hopefully.

I realized I had forgotten to do a disclaimer, so in case you didn't realize it, I don't own Harry Potter of any characters there in. I do however own Meryl and Marshall, a fact I am very proud of.

Thank you so much for those of you who wrote reviews! They mean so much to me and I am very grateful for the support. And thank you for being patient until the more interesting action starts, aka, getting to Hogwarts; I wasn't planning on having so much of a back story, but the explanation was needed.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

Two weeks later brought Meryl, Marshall, and Johnny on a plane to England. It was August 31st. Seven at night. Technically, Marshall was supposed to be at college, and Meryl was certainly supposed to be at school.

They were flying because Marshall couldn't apparate (once Meryl learned what it was, and that she could do it, she refused to _walk_ down the stairs anymore, a habit her mother found terribly annoying). During most of the flight, Johnny tried to explain various magical issues, but Meryl found it all rather dull, and figuring she would learn it all anyway, drifted off into a light doze with his murmering voice in the background.

Nothing much had been happening during the past two weeks. Agents had been running wild through the house and property (they lived in the country), and Aurors from England kept popping out of nowhere to bring this and that to whoever. It was a little irritating. Not to mention they were no closer to catching Castor than before, and the Aurors hadn't been able to capture any of the named supporters, or pin down who might be involved. Everything appeared to running a muck.

The only part of the plan going smoothly was her going to "Hogwarts"—consequently, no one had provided an explanation to what a "hogwart" was, and Meryl highly doubted anyone actually knew. She and Johnny were to be exchange students from America for their last year (it was during this discussion she learned he was actually twenty-seven, a fact he was a little loathe to admit to). Marshall was a harder problem to resolve. Being a muggle, he couldn't technically enter Hogwarts as a student, and originally, Johnny wanted to have him take over the vacant janitor position. After a tirade of creative insults from Marshall (toward Johnny of course), Meryl pointed out that Marshall and herself were most obviously related. A compromise had been reached where Marshall was to be an aid to one of the teachers, allowing him to be available for Meryl. His guise was as a squib, after which Meryl promptly started calling him "Squid."

The plane ride did provide lots of time for Meryl to think about her situation. She found it a little ridiculous that this...incident had been thrust upon her. Without a question, she would have given to any one else if given the chance. Magical powers—great. It appeared to have only complicated her life more. Now instead of being a frustrated senior with marginal teenage issues, Meryl was now in danger for her life. At the very least, she was some tool for this new magical government to use for bring down a lunatic. Not an advisable situation.

But Meryl had always followed what she thought to be right, and deep down she knew she _needed _to help, whether she wanted to or not. Morgono had picked the wrong person to curse. She had these blasted powers, and darned it all, she was going to use them to make things better, or die trying.

Of course, there was the large possibility she might die...but Meryl didn't like dwelling on nasty thoughts.

"We're almost there," mumbled Marshall, looking out the window.

"How can you tell?" asked Meryl, looking out as well. "It's all cloudy."

"Exactly. Be ready to be damp for most of the year." He gave a half-hearted smile. "Kind of crazy, all of this. Isn't it?"

Meryl shrugged. "It happens."

He responded with rolling his eyes. "You're too practical for your own good. Aren't you in the least bit excited? I mean...magic. Wow."

"Marshall. Think about my situation for a minute. Just think."

He screwed up his face, and glanced at his sister. "So you have creepy dreams with an even creeper guy. But you have magical abilities. I really think you got the better end of the stick. Quit complaining. You can be such a whiner."

"Just to you, Marshall, just to you," grumbled Meryl, leaning back into her seat.

Johnny, who had been asleep, jerked awake. When his eyes found Meryl, he smiled grandly. "How are you?"

"Bored. Marshall thinks were almost there."

Johnny pulled out a device and looked at it. "He's right. We'll be meeting Potter and Weasel at the airport, and they'll be taking us to the Leaky Cauldron to stay. All your stuff should be there."

"My stuff? My stuff is on the plane."

Johnny smiled again. "School stuff. Books, cauldron, materials. You are going to _school_. And remember, it's not just to be protected and whatnot. You need to be getting your N.E.."

"Yes, because I really want a slimy little lizard," sniffed Meryl.

"They're not--"

"I know what they are," she sighed. "I was listening a _little_ bit when you were explaining things. It's like the ACT."

"Not quite."

"Whatever."

"Don't worry too much about school...or your situation. I'll be right here the entire time to help you out," said Johnny, and he patted her hand kindly. Out of the corner of her eye, Meryl saw Marshall glare at Johnny, but ignored him.

********

"Ah, Mr. Potter! And you must be Mr. Weasel!" greeted Johnny grandly, shaking Mr. Potter's hand with a little too much exuberance. His glasses had gone askew, and Meryl thought he looked a little tired, not too unlike herself—their flight had left at seven last night, and with a delayed flight along with a lay over, they had not arrived in London until nine on September 1st. Even with the nap she had managed to have, Meryl had not slept well, jerking to an uneasy consciousness most of the time, leaving her rather exhausted now.

"My name is _Weasley_. Ron _Weasley_." The red head let his eyes scrutinize Johnny none too kindly, with a frown on his mouth. Marshall snickered and slapped the very reddened Agent on the back.

"Miss Lane, very nice to see you again," greeted Mr. Potter, shaking hands with her as well. "We need to get going—Parker is waiting for all of us at the Leaky Cauldron. And Ron already got your stuff in the car."

Meryl finally understood why Forth had found it irritating to deal with the European wizards in the past (something he had continually warned her about during the two weeks at her house. She had found him delightful to converse with and all around a pleasant fellow, but considered him maybe a little too judgmental). While Mr. Potter—who consequently had lived in the muggle world enough of his life to not be impressed by it (Johnny had made sure to update her, a lowly nobody, on just _who_ this Harry Potter was and his life story to boot)—walked quickly with an uninterested face, Mr. Weasley was continually turning his head this way and that, pointing like a little kid at the the airplanes and escalators. "I still can't for the life of me figure out how they make these things fly, and how exactly they get these things to move without any noticeable support," he gushed. "And those little devices that everybody talks into, what are they?"

"Cell phones," mumbled Marshall.

"Yes, cell phones. Absolutely astounding things. My wife is a muggle, and she's tried to explain batteries and electricity to me, but it just baffles my mind. How can you be sure that its working the way you want it to? Honestly, magic is a lot more predictable and sensible, to be sure. Too bad everybody can't use it." Mr. Weasley sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets—the pockets of his robes, that is.

Possibly the most annoying part was that he wasn't even attempting to blend in; common sense mixed with the desire to go mostly unnoticed in life had always prompted Meryl to look like everybody else, and it baffled her that any one person, let alone a whole society, would bother putting themselves apart in such an obvious way. People held no reservations in staring openly at Mr. Weasley, and consequently, the rest of the party as well, as they walked through the airport. And it wasn't helping the matter when he cooed at every little bit of technology that passed their way, exclaiming loudly about nearly everything.

Meryl could hear Mr. Potter and Johnny discussing him behind her, Mr. Weasley being totally preoccupied with Marshall's cell phone.

"Hermione—his wife—doesn't get him out much. And his parents are both wizards, so frankly, they do spend more time in the wizarding world. She managed to explain cars to him, and televisions, and they have those in their house. Mostly, she keeps anything electrical out because his father likes to tinker with them. He couldn't really get his hands on them except through her."

"And now she has a clueless husband," snorted Johnny. "You Brits always did have me a bit confused."

"Don't judge him too hard. He's bright, and a good auror. Actually, he's the one that were having watch--" Mr. Potter stopped, and Meryl felt eyes on the back of her head.

Well, they weren't stupid, and no doubt knew she was eavesdropping, so she turned around and started walking between the two men. "And _who_ is Mr. Weasley watching?"

Neither said a word.

Meryl wasn't stupid either; she could put two and two together without much difficulty. "Why on earth are you watching me? What are you expecting me to do?"

"Listen, we didn't want you worrying--" sputtered Johnny, putting out his hands defensively.

"Worrying? Are you waiting for me to grow another head or something?" Meryl seethed, her temper rising fast. "Or is it that I'm going to tell Castor what you all are up to? Honestly, how dense do you really think--"

"It's not a matter of trust--" continued Johnny, but it was a pathetic excuse. On her other side, she could see Mr. Potter shaking his head slowly.

"It _is_ a matter of trust, you dimwitted--" started Meryl, but she was cut off as they bumped into a group of tourists (which always happen to be Japanese, for some reason). When she found Johnny again, she had forgotten her original insult, but said, "You didn't _tell_ me. I thought I was part of this operation. I _am_ the operation!"

Her accusing hazel eyes scoured the poor agent, who was slowly being crippled by their gaze. "Listen. We, collectively, are worried that maybe...well, that the charm isn't what we're thinking. We don't want this whole operation screwed up because we weren't careful. I mean, you're only seventeen, and you make mistakes. We wanted someone watching you as a backup."

"We trust you, Meryl. But in a magical world, you always need to be watching your back, especially with unknown magic, which you are now a part of," explained Mr. Potter. "I'm sorry about all this, really. And having been in your situation, in a way, I can see why you're upset."

"Whatever, drop it," said Meryl suddenly, waving her hand to signal that they were to forget the entire conversation. Both men sighed—probably in relief—and began discussing different tactics for bringing down various criminals.

But the truth was, Meryl had not dropped the subject, or at least, had not forgotten it. So they had not seen it fit to tell her she was being watched. What else, then, were they hiding from her? Well, probably not much, since she was the main source from which they received information, but it was the ethics of the matter. If things were supposed to go smoothly, and they were to catch Castor, she knew that everyone needed to be aware of what was going on. Glaring at the tiled floor as the five of them strutted along, Meryl made a promise to herself: she wouldn't trust the Agency—or the Ministry—either. Two could play this game. If needs be, she would figure out how to bring Castor down herself. Johnny had kept reminding her how powerful she was capable of becoming with the right training.

Well, once she got that training, maybe she would go do it herself.

********

Meryl was too tired to really care when they met Mr. Parker, head of the Auror Department. And she was too tired to look at all the supplies he had so kindly bought for her duration at school. Ultimately, she was too tired to care about anything once they had arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, from discussing how they were to contact her to what would she like for breakfast before they left for King's Cross. All she wanted was a soft bed and her ipod, which was unfortunately packed away in her bags. But none of the Aurors would hear any of that, insisting that she needed to be updated on everything, as if she didn't know the information already.

Castor was not doing much right now (no duh, she only told this to Johnny every other day, for she had not been having any visions recently). The blond Slytherins in the ministry were being watched, but none could be considered a suspect yet since nothing unusual had happened. No strange, unexplainable disappearances or suspicious actions. Parker would be mostly busy keeping business running as usual in the Auror Department, so he wouldn't be able to visit Meryl as often as he would like at school. Instead, Forth would be taking his place and reporting to him each time; Meryl wasn't particularly excited about this, for while he was fine enough of a person, Forth could be very overbearing. Irritating.

Well, just about everything was irritating her right now.

And her mood was easily apparent to those unfortunate enough to have to interact with her, the only one not intimidated by it being Marshall—who also, consequently, was in a bit of a temper himself. Two things make a Lane family member unpleasant to be around, hunger and lack of sleep. Meryl and Marshall were suffering from both. The only thing that made it bearable for Mr. Johnny Hancock was that neither showed their irritation by yelling and snapping, but rather an uncomfortable silence and glares when someone tried to talk to them. Whatever the case, after forcing both children to sit through a lengthy explanation of the situation at hand (which Meryl already was fully aware. Honestly, how many people need to say the same things to them over and over? They weren't five), he gave them both a roast beef sandwich, which gave both enough energy to travel to King's Cross to board the Hogwarts Express.

They were walking there now, Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley tagging along, for their own children would be leaving today as well. Both men had tried to tell Meryl about their respective offspring, Rosie and Albus, earlier, but she had waved off the matter with an irked glance. At the moment, Marshall was expressing his doubts of there being a magical platform called 9 ¾ here to Mr. Weasley, while Meryl tried to get a sensible answer from Mr. Potter about what a "hogwart" was.

"It sounds like a type of fungus," she said, "and I just can't believe that anyone would name a school after that."

"It's not a fungus," he sighed. "But I don't know what it is. Probably a type of plant. I don't know. Ron, does Hermione know what a "hogwart" is?"

Mr. Weasley turned around and shrugged. "Probably. We've never talked about it. I always thought it was a disease. Wondered why they would name a school after that..."

Meryl smirked looked sideways at a disgruntled Mr. Potter.

"Okay, here we are," announced Johnny, who had been strutting ahead of them, looking around at the vast train station with interest. They had nothing like this in the states, and had Meryl not been so concerned with just about everything else along with being extremely tired, she probably would have been just as amazed at everything as the agent. However, she was tired, and still a little grumpy, and also noticed that there was no 9 ¾ platform. She opened her mouth to state as much, but Marshall beat her to the punch.

"Look: 9, 10," he pointed to each sign. "There is no 9 ¾ here."

Both the Aurors grinned knowingly. "Oh, well, you can't actually _see_ the platform yet. You need to walk through the barrier. Run, if you're nervous," said Mr. Potter, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Meryl glanced at the brick barrier with worry. Walk through? Were they serious? Last time she checked, brick was a pretty solid material.

"What about Marshall? He isn't a wizard," asked Johnny with concern. "He's not going to be _able_ to."

"I've handled that," piped up Mr. Weasley. "The Ministry agreed to lift the charm preventing non-magic muggles from entering for a full minute. Starting...at 10:50. Which is in a minute. If it makes you feel better Marshall, you can walk through with me. Generally, it's one at a time because of the carts," he looked over at Meryl's own overflowing cart, "but we should be fine."

Marshall grimaced and nodded; he had taken rather well to Mr. Weasley, though Meryl noticed the reluctance he showed in running through the brick wall, and briefly she wondered if she was doing Marshall a favor by dragging him along with her. What harm could he come to, being a muggle? He had no real method of defending himself, and for the next year, the only person he would know would be her—and she was now capable of magic. Marshall was technically alone. Would he get hurt because of that?

Meryl didn't have much time to muse on the subject, however serious, for Johnny was already shoving her toward the wall. In her usual graceful fashion that had prevented her from being proficient in any coordinated sport, Meryl stumbled through the brick, tripping over her laces that had somehow become undone. After regaining her balance and general pride, she looked up to see a large, spacious platform that was taken up by a large, red train. People were everywhere, yelling goodbyes and hugging and kissing, with many a large trunk hauled behind them. Owls were everywhere (and where was her owl? For that matter, what were the owls for?), and it seemed a lot of the younger kids were waving around long slender sticks with enthusiasm.

Oh yes, the wands.

Oh no...wand.

"Johnny!" Meryl gasped, bringing her hands to her hair in fright. "I don't have a wand!"

He grinned in amusement, his brown eyes sparkling with laughter. Unfortunately, Meryl was still too irritated to be amused (a nap had been a long time coming, and she intended on falling asleep as soon as they boarded), and when she gave him a hardy, maddened stare, he relented and pulled a wand from his jacket. "Yes, you do. We, the Agency, decided it would be best to give you Morgono's wand since it will no doubt respond best to you. I know it's...well, wands do tend to take on characteristics of their masters, but they aren't permanent. We're thinking you can change that."

Meryl took the wand into her hand, and upon touching her skin, she felt a jolt of energy fly up her arm, and the tip sparked a little. For a brief moment, it seemed like she was holding something very evil, and she wanted nothing more than to break it in half, but the feeling passed to be replaced by one of confusion—though she never said it out loud, the feeling must have been coming from the wand. It was a warm, dark color, and extended to about fourteen inches.

"Mahogany, with unicorn hair. Very flexible and an excellent dueling weapon. Meant for somebody with power and ambition," explained Johnny. "Obviously, in Morgono's case, that ambition went too far. You'll change that though. I'm sure of it."

The train whistled, signaling everybody to board. They turned to wave goodbye to Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley, who were already seeing their own kids off, and stepped onto the train. Two minutes later, they were off.

*******

"Every car is full," grumbled Marshall, peeking into one as they passed by. "We should have boarded earlier and gotten one."

"Keep moving toward the back," ordered Johnny. "They can't all be full."

Meryl was seriously doubting that fact as they passed another car filled with six kids. Peeking in briefly, she saw two faces that stuck out from the rest. Four of the kids seemed worried or sullen, like they had not been having enough sleep the past week. However, there was a blonde in there, a boy, who looked rather haughty, his grey eyes surveying his friends nonchalantly, and an annoying little smirk playing around his lips. The other was a lanky, brown haired boy that was laughing about something, his green eyes sparkling happily. He had a dash of freckles across his nose and lines around his mouth, probably from smiling, for Meryl had those own lines herself.

It seemed she peeked a little too long because another kid, this one sturdy with darker skin and sandy hair, looked up at her, a question on his face. It wasn't an unpleasant face, but she could tell he was concerned about something, and before anyone else in the car could see her, Meryl hurried after Johnny and her brother.

They eventually did find a car all to themselves, way in the back. Marshall quickly blockaded the door to prevent anyone else from entering and collapsed onto the seat. Meryl tried to lay down too, but Johnny seemed intent on sitting next to her and talking. She let him rattle on about different creatures in the magical world, then about some of his more famous battles with the same creatures (apparently, he had taken on a Hungarian Horntail all by himself his first year as an agent, a story Meryl suspected was highly exaggerated). She also learned he had graduated from Academy (the magic school on the west coast) at age fifteen and had gone immediately to the Agency since they were in need of agents at the time. Along with that, she learned his favorite food was eggplant parmesan, and he had lived in seven states before going to school. He could also do ballroom dance.

When the subject turned to his motorcycles, Meryl knew she needed to stop the conversation. "Listen, Johnny, as fascinating as this all is, I'm _tired_. I want to sleep."

"Sorry," he shrugged, "but I'm bored. I thought you slept on the plane."

"I dozed, which is not as refreshing. Now just stop talking for like an hour and let me sleep," she snapped, bunching up her jacket into an unsuccessful pillow. She laid down, but something was jabbing into her back. Meryl turned over. It didn't help. "BAH!" She punched at her jacket, and the next thing she knew, she was in a forest.

It was a dark forest—probably night time—and thick, vaguely reminding her of the forests in Oregon. But it was also very chilly, somewhere high in the mountains.

Meryl felt a rush of fear pulse through her mind. This was where Castor was, and even as she felt her fear, she could feel his happiness. There were seven others with him; four she did not recognize, but three she did. Redding was there, along with Vanessa and Mayson. Now that she thought about it, two of the other four could have been the Carrow siblings, but she wasn't sure.

"We have much work to do. Russia is large." It was Castor's voice, and from it she could feel tremors of excitement, like he wanted to say something, but was waiting for the correct time.

"We will take Siberia," suggested an unknown man, motioning to another man. "We have friends there who could be...partial to your offers."

"And we will scour the eastern country," said one of the Carrows (Meryl had decided it must be them).

"Mayson and Redding, take the western country," ordered Castor. "Support will be hard to rally in St. Petersburg and Moscow, but once we have it, the surrounding areas will be more willing to respond. Don't fail me."

They bowed humbly—as if Redding ever looked humble, thought Meryl sourly—and disappeared. After a moment of silence, the Carrows disappeared as well. The two other men were nowhere to be seen. This left only Vanessa, who was leaning casually against a tree, twisting her golden hair in her wand again.

"Well, master. What does that leave me to do?" It was a drawl, thickly accented, something Meryl had not noticed before.

Meryl could feel the dark wizard smile mockingly. "I have something special for you. As I recall, you became very fond of Morgono these last few years."

Vanessa scowled, her eyes flitting angrily at him. "He was weakening, losing his resolve. If it hadn't been for you pushing him along, Morgono probably would have given up, the coward. I stopped being a disciple of his years ago. And I would love nothing more than to beat him into submission."

"This you shall do."

The comment had clearly taken the woman by surprise; she stood up straight and looked directly at Castor, something almost no one but Redding dare to do. "What do you mean? I thought Morgono was dead after Forth battled him. Not that I'm complaining, but--"

"He's alive. I can feel him in my head sometimes. The connection is different, much more guarded than before. I don't think he even realizes it much, and I can't truly see what he is doing—at least, not yet. But he's alive. I want you to hunt him down. Morgono, though the coward he was, could still be useful to us if persuaded correctly. Don't come back until you've brought him with you. Either that, or leave his bones to rot. I'd imagine either circumstance would be pleasing to you."

Vanessa was grinning like a maniac. "It would indeed please me. I shall not fail you, oh great Castor."

Meryl took a deep breath of air, and suddenly the train car reappeared, bright and sunny, a stark contrast to the depressing forest. Johnny was holding her, as if preventing her from falling to the ground. Marshall was sitting up, concerned and grinding his hands on the seat. "What happened?" he asked. "You were..."

He didn't bother finishing the sentence, and Meryl hardly cared. Looking at Johnny, she said, "He thinks Morgono is alive. And he's looking for him."


	5. A Traveling Disaster

AN: Hello, everybody! So, this chapter is kind of just for fun...as in it was fun writing it. There aren't any important plot details that I can think of...but that doesn't mean don't read it! I promise the story will progress more next chapter (if any of you have read my previous works, then you know how long I can take on developing a plot).

Anyway, thank you the reviews...and feel free to write more...

*This chapter is dedicated to my best friend and all the little scrapes we managed to wriggle ourselves into...

As always, enjoy

* * *

The three stumbled from the train, Meryl still feeling a little woozy from the vision and the bumpy ride. After hearing the rest of the story, Johnny had called Forth immediately (they were still within range of a cell tower) and relayed that the press was not to be told of Morgono's recent death, and men were to start searching for Vanessa McKenny immediately. He got about half way through the actual events Meryl had seen before they lost reception, but the important stuff had been said. After that, the trip had not improved. The Lane siblings did manage to squeeze in a nap, but both woke up with roaring hunger in their bellies, especially when the sweets trolly came rolling by. It was a nasty shock then to realize that these wizards didn't take euros, let alone dollars—which was all either had. A storm had come in and rocked the cars for an hour or so, and then was followed by more heavy wind.

"This train is ancient," grumbled Marshall, shoving his suitcase in front of him, and accidentally knocking into a little blonde girl. "Sorry there. But you would think if these people had any sense, they'd use their magic to actually improve--"

"Oh shut up, Marshall," snapped Meryl, now sitting down on a bench and holding her head. "It's over. You don't have to ride it anymore."

"Here, this is the last of it," sighed Johnny, heaving a huge trunk over. "Let's hurry and catch those carriages."

"Wait, here's a trolly to wheel everything over on," said Marshall, and in turn put his suitcase on it with a grunt. "Why on earth did you need to bring so much stuff, Meryl? Honestly..."

But Meryl wasn't paying attention, instead counting all her bags. There was a problem. "I only see three bags. I brought four. And where on earth is my purse?"

The three exchanged looks, and when neither boy responded, Meryl groaned and stood up. "Great. The bag—and my purse—is still on the train. I told you to pick it up, Marshall!"

Her brother held his hands out defensively. "I was already holding two of them, and my own bag! I figured you meant--"

"Oh, never mind," sniffed Meryl, hauling herself over to the train. "I'll just go and get them. It's not like this isn't _normal_, me being forgotten..."

"Just because you can't make yourself heard over the rest of us boys doesn't mean we forget you," said Marshall, coming up behind her. "We all think rather fondly of our little sister...at least us older three. You're like our little doll."

"So it was just a joke that mom and dad left me at the gas station three years ago? I had to frickin' call, and it took over an hour before you finally came into a service area. It certainly stopped me from every wanting to work at a gas station."

"No one knew you got out!"

"How did you not know? I had to climb over _all_ of you before I could get to the car door. You boys are so _dense_ sometimes!"

Marshall opened his mouth to retort again, but Johnny interrupted. "What car were we in? I can't remember."

"Like I know, they all look the same to me," sighed Meryl, looked briefly in each door as they passed by. They trooped along for another five minutes until they reached the second to last car on the train, wherein Meryl spotted her purse and bag.

"Aha! I've got you!" she declared, snatching up the tote with gusto. "Marshall, do you think...?" She motioned at the bag, but Johnny got it first.

"I'll carry it." He smiled and shouldered it with easy.

At the same moment, the train whistled.

"Ah, crap!" cried out Marshall. "It's gonna leave!"

"Get moving then so we can get to a door," ordered Meryl, shoving her way past. "And I'm feeling extremely hungry, so I would appreciate getting on one of those carriages and riding to a nice dinner. At least I hope they're providing one, because I certainly have no food to cook with."

"I can tell, because you're being a grump," snapped Marshall, catching up with his sister. "You're always a grump when you're hungry."

"Look whose talking, buddy. You've only been complaining since--"

"Now now..." interjected Johnny. "Go on out the door...I don't want to head back to London..."

Once more, the three stumbled from the train, all flustered and frankly, hungry. Meryl's hair was everywhere possible, sticking up oddly in the back, with her face unevenly flushed—her brother didn't look much better. In general, she didn't like long rides of any type, but especially rides where she couldn't get out as she pleased. But now with the prospect of staying off the train, Meryl could feel her usually upbeat spirit returning. Smiling, she turned to where the carriages were.

Or had been.

"Where are the carriages?" asked Marshall, as always, stating the obvious.

Had she not been utterly irritated, Meryl would have noted how adorable her brother looked when he was confused; as it was, Meryl was too irked to notice anything at the moment, including Marshall's glare at Johnny when he placed a hand on her shoulder. "Well, we're gonna have to walk, I guess. We would apparate to the end of the grounds, but," he glanced over at Marshall, who was still narrowing his eyes disapprovingly, "your brother is a muggle, and can't apparate. It's okay—I can't imagine it being more than two miles away." He smiled winningly at Meryl, but she didn't return it, instead shouldering her purse and dumping her bag on the trolly.

They started off. Johnny had magicked the cart to float behind them lazily, which did relieve the stress of carrying Meryl's four bags and the other two. With the wind blowing kindly—even if it was a little damp—the walk was proving rather pleasurable. No clouds to cover the moon meant the path was clear, and with so little light otherwise, the stars were visible.

"Oh, it's just like home!" Meryl exclaimed, taking a moment to look up. "I love the stars!"

"You should take an Astronomy class, then," grinned Johnny, looking up with her. "I'd take it with you."

"No, you shouldn't be taking an astronomy class," butt in Marshall, wedging himself securely between the two. "You ought to be getting your sleep. And this isn't like some sort of vacation for you, Johnny. You're supposed to be protecting my sister from getting herself killed."

Johnny grinned and winked at Meryl. "Well, I haven't failed yet. Don't worry, she's in good hands. Come on, we don't want to be missing dinner, do we?"

Meryl thought she heard Marshall mutter something to the effect of "It's the hands I'm worried about," but ignored it. Marshall _did_ get horribly grumpy when he didn't have three hearty meals a day. And since they had nothing but muggle money...speaking of which... "Um, Johnny, what are we doing for money here? Our money isn't accepted."

"Hmm...I'll talk to Forth about that. Or Potter. Most American wizards never bothered to adopt the European galleons and such—to much trouble. Oh look. A fork."

He was referring to a fork in the road. One section, the right one, veered off sharply back toward the train station, at least in that general direction. The left went straight toward the school, of which three towers could now be seen over the thick, and dark, forest.

"Well..." mused Johnny, "I would take the right, since it looks more traveled, but it's going back to Hogsmeade. I suppose left must be the right one to take."

"Lead the way, as long as we don't make this trip any longer than it needs to be," grumbled Marshall, folding his arms. "I swear I can smell steak and potatoes from here."

********

The first lesson Meryl learned at Hogwarts was never let Johnny Hancock lead the way.

He might have been one of the best Agents the Department had seen in years (according to Forth and Jeremiah), but his sense of direction was...severely underdeveloped. That was putting it nicely, too. Frankly, after having walked for another hour and getting nowhere in this dense forest, Meryl was surprised he even knew left from right.

"I know for a fact we have walked more than two miles," sighed Marshall sitting down on a log; gingerly, for he had fallen earlier quite hard on his behind. "We're lost."

"We aren't lost," laughed Johnny, but his tone was high pitched and a little shaky.

Meryl squinted, studying the area around her. There wasn't much she could see as far as landmarks went, but unlike Johnny, she did have an excellent sense of direction, and could remember vaguely where the castle was. "We're leaving the trail. We need to go that way." She pointed off to their right—which also happened to be exactly where large bushes were growing between the trees.

It looked creepy, and Marshall was not averse to saying as such before Johnny broke up the bushes with a wave of his wand. "There. It's passable. But I think we're making a mistake in leaving the trail..."

"And look where your guidance has gotten us," snapped Meryl, putting her hands on her hips. "_We go_."

The second lesson Meryl learned at Hogwarts was she was _not_ capable of sensing danger, even if it was right in front of her nose.

Literally.

The three now disgruntled and frustrated persons had been walked for a good thirty minutes, tramping through the thorny underbrush. Johnny had taught Meryl what he considered the most basic and useful charm she would know, _lumos_. Of course, she was able to do it instantly (maybe this whole power transfer thing wasn't so bad...), but it wasn't aiding very much in getting her through the forest unscathed. All it did was warn her what was coming—and personally, Meryl liked being surprised when it was something unpleasant. Otherwise, all she did was think about it, meaning most of the walk was spent thinking about how thorny and nasty all these bushes were.

"Not to be rude, but how do _you_ know where we're going?" huffed Johnny, coming up next to Meryl.

"How do you know Morgono didn't have some type of mental GPS in his head, allowing him to go anywhere without getting lost?"

"Because that's magically impossible."

"I'm supposed to be magically impossible, and what d'ya know?" Meryl sniffed and rubbed her nose; it had gotten rather cold in a short amount of time, not to mention it was still damp.

"Meryl has an excellent sense of direction," cut in Marshall. "She hardly gets lost, except in big cities. Like that _one_ time in New York--"

"What matters is that I happen to know exactly where we are headed," she snapped, stopping Marshall from telling a very embarrassing story. As she was talking, Meryl had put her wand down to look behind at Johnny clearly, and brought it back up again when she faced forward. And then she screamed.

Two inches away was a terrifying face with too many eyes and too many pincers.

Johnny clamped his hand over her mouth, cutting her off, though it still echoed faintly.

Nothing moved for a good thirty seconds, including the face. Meryl was so close to Johnny she could feel him shaking a little, his breath practically rattling in her ear. She wasn't sure what she was facing, nor whether it was alive, but from the reaction of the agent, Meryl could tell it wasn't good.

Eventually, Johnny deemed it safe to move again, but his voice was barely above a whisper. "Okay, we need to get out of here. I can't tell if this is asleep or dead, but--"

His instructions were drowned out by a loud screeching sound, coming from the face, and joined by five other similar sounds. All three ran backwards, and Johnny's wand grew brighter, illuminating the area around them for about twenty feet, only to reveal ten similar faces...with spider bodies.

"They're _huge_!" cried out Marshall, his voice cracking. Though he had never admitted it to his brothers, he was afraid of spiders. And at the moment, Meryl wholeheartedly agreed with him.

Clicking was heard now as the ten spiders closed in, the nearest one prancing eagerly toward them. Now with so much light Meryl could get a good view of the creatures; they were spiders, no doubt, but hairy with exceptionally long legs.

"They're Acromantulas!" yelled out Johnny, whipping out his wand with a flourish. "And very dangerous! Do as I do, than run toward the castle!" Pointing his wand toward the biggest group of spiders, he yelled, "_Flipendo_!" which shot all of them backwards twenty feet.

Meryl pointed her wand at the one nearest her and yelled the jinx, sending it sprawling away, and hitting two more spiders as it went. Johnny turned to her smiling, but before he could congratulate her, Marshall shot past both of them toward the open space his arms flailing wildly at his sides—an unfortunate trait all Lane children share in regards to running. It was one of the many reasons they had never done track.

But at this point, Meryl didn't care whether she looked like a fool or not; she blitzed it after her brother, calling out this new found spell on either side of her, just hoping to hit something, with her left arm flinging just as haphazardly has her brother's had. There wasn't time to think, hardly time to breath, only time to put one foot in front of the other and to pray that you didn't fall. The pincers were still clicking madly behind them, and Meryl heard Johnny yell out "_Frigido_!" along with numerous swear words. As for herself, she had abandoned the idea of magic and had decided that running would be the best defense.

Meryl never considered herself particularly athletic—sure, she played sports for fun at home or during P.E., but she wasn't very good. And besides looking like a fool, she just wasn't much of a runner to begin with, more of a jogger. However, Meryl learned very quickly that she was capable of holding a sprint for at least half a mile, of maybe even a mile. Getting to Hogwarts was proving more exciting (in a bad way, of course) than anticipated.

Whatever the case, Johnny managed to send a very nasty exploding spell back to the spiders that eventually stopped their assault, and gave the three enough time to make it to the edge of the forest, where they promptly collapsed. For five minutes they just lay on the spongy grass, staring up at the black sky, and wondered if they could ever breath normally again.

"That—was—close," gasped Meryl, clutching at her chest.

"Close?" panted Marshall. "We—were—nearly," he took a particularly large breath, "massacred!"

Meryl tried to fling her arm and hit her brother in the stomach, but she missed, and instead let her limb lay there lifelessly.

"It—doesn't—matter—right—now," wheezed Johnny, trying to sit up. His messy hair was in utter disarray, falling over his eyes and brushing his cheeks slightly, but despite it all, he managed to smile. "Lets—get—moving."

He might have said that, but no one bothered to follow his advice for another ten minutes, and even then, Meryl almost wanted to fall asleep there, until they heard a twig snap in the forest. Like a jack-in-the-box, all three popped up, Johnny and Meryl brandishing their wands, and Marshall holding a large stick as a club.

It turned out just to be a rabbit.

"We ought to get away from the forest. Nasty things living there. Oh, and Marshall, that stick wouldn't do much more than make you look like a fool if it had been an Acromantula." Johnny snicked and brushed past Meryl's brother, whose face was probably turning a venomous shade of scarlet. He twitched, and it looked like he was going to hit the Agent over the head just to show what exactly the stick was capable of, but seemed to think better of it and dropped the branch.

"If he makes one more smart comment--" he muttered under his breath to Meryl.

"I'll hold, you punch. Would that make you feel better?" She dropped her sarcastic tone and folded her arms. "Good grief, Marshall, just get over it," Meryl rolled her eyes, thinking to herself just how ridiculous boys could be.

The third lesson Meryl learned at Hogwarts what that, when it came down to it, muggle methods are always a lot more effective than magical.

The three had hardly walked twenty steps when Marshall pointed out that the castle was just up ahead, glowing brightly from the numerous lamps that dotted the outside walls. Even better, there was no forest to hinder their progress, and with a shout of relief, they reduced the remaining half mile or so it took to reach the gates. But there was a problem. The gates were locked.

"Easy fix," gloated the Agent, flourishing his wand, maybe a little too much. "_Alohamora_."

To Meryl, it didn't look like anything had happened. Apparently, Marshall was thinking the same thing, because he tried the handle and snorted. "Yes, easy. _Excellent_ work. I can see that charm was _really_ effective."

For a brief moment, Meryl worried she might have to carry the scant remains of her elder brother in a thimble after Johnny was done glaring at him, but the look of resentment passed relatively quickly, only to be replaced by frustration.

"Aren't you supposed to be the best agent they Department ever had, or something like that?" Marshall asked after a very short second of silence.

"I'm not the best; I'm bright and young and skilled, which the Agency values; but my talent doesn't lie with protective charms. I'm a duelist. In the magical world, there is a vast difference."

"I figured a spell is a spell is a spell," Meryl muttered, rubbing her nose hard. It was getting terribly chilly now, even after having exerted herself to the extreme. Her legs were still shaking a little bit from the strain, along with her hands, though they were due to the damp air that seemed to penetrate every inch of her clothes.

"Well, it's not," he snapped back, but Johnny's good mood returned quickly, and he sighed. "They're strong, the charms. And I don't have the ability to maneuver them. If only these British wizards would carry cell phones...then we could call and tell them to let us in. However...well, let's just say they consider it beneath them to use muggle devices. Us American wizards have embraced our muggle allies; your science is almost as effective in many cases as our magic."

"Or our culture just encourages you to mingle," countered Meryl. "We're awfully big for a country, and Britain is small. Two percent of the population is large, but not large enough to be close knit, like it seems here."

"As much as I'm enjoying your debate," cut in Marshall, jiggling the gates (which, for the record, didn't much so much as a millimeter), "I can't see how it's going to help us get in. Do we have no way of contacting them?"

Johnny thought for a moment, frowning just slightly. "Well, no. Not really. I'd assume they were expecting us...Potter certainly made it sound that way. But...oh I don't know."

Marshall groaned and sat down on the grass. "I can smell the dinner now—it's steak and potatoes. I'm sure of it. Probably with glazed carrots and creamed corn and--"

"Stop it, you're making me even more hungry," growled Meryl. "There has got to be a way to get somebody's attention."

"Well, I've heard of wizards sending their patronous to send messages, but I've never done it," suggested Johnny. "If we were by a fireplace, we could try the Floo network—"

"Meryl, you are so slow," sighed Marshall, sitting up. "Look at all these rocks and look at all these windows."

"You're kidding!"

For the first time all night, Marshall really smiled. "It's quick, easy, and effective. And can you come up with something better?"

Meryl glanced at Johnny, who shrugged without a comment. She would have thought a twenty seven year old agent would be more help in a situation like this, but apparently she was to be proven wrong. "Fine we'll throw rocks at the windows. Look at how many window there are."

Marshall's grin widened, if that was possible. "And look at those big ones over there. Lights are on. I bet we'd get somebody's attention."

And so twenty minutes later a very disgruntled Filch pattered out of the castle walls to see three children repeated throwing small rocks at the Great Hall windows, which happened to be very much against school rules. In his usual grouchy fashion, he snatched up Marshall and Meryl by the scruff of their necks (they were clearly the experienced ones in this situation) and dragged them to the entrance, with Johnny trailing behind. Most of the time was spent with him practically cursing them until their ears bled, but through the vulgar language, Meryl was able to make out a definite threat of being severely hexed by certain individuals of unknown origins. However, she did not take this threat seriously because in her experience of dealing with this type of person (which was common enough), she knew these threats to be empty. Marshall—who had gone to the police station more times than their mother dare mention on various innocent subjects—simply rolled his eyes and trudged along in the grumpy mood that had been prevalent all day.

"Once this is all over, we are getting dinner, right?" he asked, trying to lessen the hold on his collar.

"Dinner is over," snarled Filch.

Marshall opened his mouth, but at that moment, they rounded a corner to be faced with what appeared to be the main populous of the school. What had previously been a buzzing noise of excited students changed into the atmosphere of a tomb.

After briefly assessing the situation, Meryl decided they had every right to be standing there with gaping and shocked expressions. All three of them were covered with dirt and grass, their clothes were rather torn (for that matter, they were still in their muggle attire, which was certainly _not_ wizard attire), and taking into account none of them had gotten a good night's sleep, they probably looked like the living dead. And how often did a grimy old man come barging in with three criminal looking children? Probably never.

"Filch! Wha' you got there?" boomed a loud voice. The crowd of silent students parted and a huge man with grizzly brown hair lumbered through. Despite his scary appearance, Meryl could see a more or less cheerful face behind the beard, though right now it looked a little agitated. "Why, where did you find these three?"

"Throwing rocks at the windows. The little vandals; I'm bringing them to the Headmistress to be taken care of."

A murmur of whispers began among the students; apparently, Filch was not the only one to have heard the rocks.

"Um, sir," coughed Johnny, stepping out from behind Filch. "I'm Johnny Hancock and--"

"The exchange students!" burst out the large man. "Why, we've been looking for you everywhere! Where'd you go at the train station?"

Johnny turned red. "Well...there was some incidents," he glanced at Meryl, "but obviously everything is resolved. I believe we need somewhere to take our stuff."

She noticed that, somehow, the trolly with all their bags had come through their adventures unscathed, and was now nudging Johnny on the shoulder constantly.

It would have been nice for the crowd to have dispersed at this point, but it seemed that the curious faces staring at them had only increased. Even some of the teachers were joining in for the staring. Meryl wished very dearly she could hunch over and disappear, but Filch only heaved her up a little bit higher by her shirt, cutting into her neck.

"Aw, let go of them, Filch," said the large man, and at this order, the siblings were unceremoniously dropped to the ground. "These are the students McGonagal was telling you about; the exchange students from America. There now, okay, how you feeling?"

"Like crap," grumbled Marshall, rubbing his neck. "Is there anything we can eat?"

"Well, probably. I'm supposed to take you to Professor McGonagal to get everything sorted out. Name's Hagrid." He smiled, though most of it was hidden behind the bushy bead.

"Meryl," she said, "and my brother Marshall." They were walking at this point, thankfully out of view of the crowd, from which she could hear voices shouting "This way! Nothing more to see! Come along now!"

"Johnny Hancock," said Johnny, sticking his hand out. Hagrid took it and nodded.

"Nice meeting yeh. Now, Marshall, it looks like you're gonna be helping me out in class. Know much about magical creatures?"

Her brother's face was stony, though Meryl knew it to mean he was totally lost. She stepped in quickly. "We didn't have much experience with it at our school. It wasn't a required class, and neither of us really took it."

"Oh. You'll learn everything soon enough, though. We'll talk about the more dangerous creatures before I get you handling those...here we are."

They stopped in front of a large, ugly gargoyle that promptly asked for a password. Having never seen an inanimate object move, Meryl nearly jumped out of her grimy shoes for the shock of it. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you," whispered Johnny into her hear. "Objects are usually 'alive'. And the pictures move. Basically, discount everything you've ever learned in a science class." He smiled his signature smile that she was becoming familiar with, one that made him look like a poster boy for some ad. With a venomous grunt, Marshall squeezed between them, and they followed Hagrid up the stairs.

Professor McGonagal was a tall lady and extremely imposing; but her smile was friendly enough and her welcome not threatening, so Meryl figured they would get along well enough. For the first ten minutes of their visit, Meryl could feel herself dozing off. Things were said about houses, classes, students, rules, and various other things that did not interest her enough to be fully conscious.

"Now, for your housing arrangements. Mr. Lane: because you are a muggle—yes, Mr. Potter has told me completely about your situation, though I am to stand by only as an observer and protector unless other circumstances arrive—you will need to live somewhere without the need for wands. Hagrid has agreed to fill that position; and he is also fully aware of why you three are here."

Hagrid, who had been standing silently to the side, grinned again and nodded. "You'll have a room to yourself. It ain't big, but it's something." Marshall gave the smallest hint of recognition at this comment, still suffering greatly from the lack of food all day.

"As for Miss Lane and Mr. Hancock. We do have a separate dorm for exchange students, from when we did encourage such exchanges. Ever since Voldemort first took power, we had stopped such events, and after his defeat, it has been hard to restart those relationships again. Though you aren't technically a student, you will be our first exchange students in a very long time. Rules are straight forward on the matter. You cannot be sorted into a house, hence the separate dorm room. You will be taking all the basic classes, and then two of your own choosing, though since you are graduating here, you need to be N.E.W.T. qualified...which both of you are, in one form or another. However, we do have quidditch teams, and if you wish to try out and play, you are perfectly welcome. But," at this she paused, "you must note that while you cannot be sorted into a house, if you are accepted to a certain team, you have _aligned_ yourself with that house. This prevents you from freely entering any of the dorms, which as an exchange student, you are allowed to do without question. I would highly suggest thinking it over before trying out for any of the teams."

Meryl stared blankly at McGonagal, not quite understanding what quidditch was, but not caring enough to ask. All she wanted was a pillow and a blanket and a soft spot to sleep.

"Your dorm room is located on the third floor, west wing, behind the stone angel. You will give her your password, which you will come up with yourselves. You have a small sitting area with a large fireplace and various other, homey things, though feel free to redecorate. Miss Lane's room is on the left, and Mr. Hancock's the right. You cannot get into each others rooms by any means, though I shouldn't think that to be a problem. Now, Mr. Potter has expressed a need to contact you at least once a week, so we have arranged the Floo Network to be connected to your fireplace, as it was not before. I believe that is everything important."

Meryl certainly hoped so, and was relieved that when, twenty minutes later, she somehow managed to get into their dorm room and plop down on a beautiful, soft, fluffy bed and go to sleep.


	6. Strange Meetings

AN: Yay! A chapter with more plot! So, now I can officially say that the real story is underway, now that I have deemed to have written enough chapters with explanation. If anything doesn't make sense or you're confused about characters (everything makes sense to me because I'm the author...but it might not make sense to you), go ahead and ask away. Along with leaving reviews. I LOVE reviews...

Thanks for all the support from those of you reading this story!

As always, enjoy.

* * *

"Transfiguration is an art. Beautiful. Mysterious. Fantastical. An art."

The teacher, a Mr. Fidwillen, was at the front of the class, holding his wand like a torch, his great big round face lit up with reverence and excitement. Meryl had gotten her schedule that morning and after a hurried breakfast, had rushed off with Johnny to begin school again. She could already feel herself getting nauseous from the idea of having class from _him_ for a whole year. If all the teachers were like this, she highly doubted she could last any longer than a week. Radicals were just too much for her to bear.

"You have all spent six years learning how to do the basics of transfiguration. It is now my job to teach you how to truly use it." Johnny, who was seated next to her, looked sideways in her direction, an arrogant smirk on is face. He didn't need to be taught how to "truly" use transfiguration seeing as he was an experienced agent; and Meryl...well, she had a feeling Morgono knew how transfigure things.

"Dad said the new teacher was little off his rocker, but I wasn't expecting this," muttered a lanky, black haired boy with bright green eyes and quite a few freckles. He was whispering to a brown haired girl with very rosy cheeks and a wide smile. Meryl felt they looked familiar, but couldn't quite pin down where she had seen them; it was clear they were good friends and had known each for a very long time.

"What do you think of the packet I gave you?" asked Johnny. His brown eyes were shining with anticipation, and his smile just about reached both his ears. "This class should be a breeze for both of us; we're gonna show everybody up. Teach them a bit 'bout magic, eh?"

Meryl smirked back and looked down at the packet. In it were all the basic spells for charms, transfiguration, and defense against the dark arts; things she would have know by heart had she been a student here previously. He had handed it to her last night, and she had stayed up till one practicing them. When Meryl had woken up this morning, at least a few of them were somewhat memorized.

"You there, stop talking!" barked Mr. Fidwillen. Meryl jerked and plastered on an innocent face—similar to one she gave her mother when caught doing something naughty—but the teacher wasn't speaking to her and Johnny, nor the other two students she had seen whispering a moment ago. He was glaring toward the back of the room where sat two boys who had been conversing. Meryl recognized both: one was the merry brunette boy she had seen laughing on the train, and the other was the sandy haired boy who had noticed her that same day. Though they were the only ones talking, she could tell that a petite, strawberry blond girl and the blond boy—also from the train—were rapt with attention. All four had been from the same car on the train, and all three seemed to be wearing the same emotions as when Meryl first saw them. Odd.

"I was going to allow everyone to pair up with someone of their choice for the first assignment, but it appears that would not be a wise decision. With a partner, now _randomly_ assigned, you will transform five different balls into five different animals. They need to be alive. They must also not retain any characteristics of the ball, including a rubbery texture, color, nor the tendency to bounce. You there, what's your name?"

He was pointing to the brown haired boy, who's smile was still gracing his features. "Charlie Nott, sir."

"Nott...Nott. Ah, yes. You will be paired with..." Mr. Fidwillen looked around the room, and Meryl made sure to not make eye contact, along with just about everybody else in the class. "You'll be paired with Miss Weasley. The teachers have already commented on how bright you are, young lady."

Meryl glanced up to see the brown haired girl from earlier go scarlet up to her ears. So she must be Mr. Weasley's kid; and she wasn't looking terribly happy at being singled out in such a fashion. Her friend, the boy, was snickering.

"Mr. Potter. I see you want to be paired up as well. Yes, I know your father, and you look an awful lot like him." At this comment, Meryl looked back at the boy, and mentally slapped herself—no wonder he looked familiar. "Why not with this young man. What's your name?"

Mr. Fidwillen was looking down at a surprised Johnny, but he quickly recovered and smiled. "Johnny Hancock. Sir."

"Very good. Now what about you, miss?"

To her horror, his gaze was trained on her, and Meryl fidgeted under the teachers gaze. "Meryl Lane."

He looked at her under shaded eyes, as if expecting something else to happen. She looked back blankly, not showing her confusion. With an annoyed grunt, he said, "Say 'sir'. I am your teacher, so please address me as such. Is this class clear on that?"

Whatever. Meryl nodded and pursed her lips together, sliding down a little in her seat with embarrassment. 'Sir' sounded so...old. What type of school made the kids say sir? And what a disagreeable, stuffy old man.

Mr. Fidwillen stood still, probably waiting for her to correct herself, but when Meryl did nothing but look at him expectantly, he cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes. "Now then. You need a partner. What about the other talker? Your name?"

She glanced behind her to look at the sandy-haired kid, his face now looking uncomfortable. "Gregory Avery, _sir_." He looked back at Meryl; it wasn't an unpleasant face, and she could tell he seemed a little interested in being paired with her, the exchange student. Nott was whispering something into his ear, and Avery cracked a grin and shook his head slightly. Well, at least he seemed nice.

Meryl noticed the Potter boy ("Albus Potter" Johnny had muttered. "And his cousin Rosie Weasley.") comforting the girl in a fashion, for she was looking a little sour at being pointed out so directly by the teacher. "Your mum had the same problem, remember?"

"Yes, but she _liked_ it."

"So you're more like your dad. It's okay. I mean, I suppose you'll have to make the best of being paired with a Slytherin..."

Meryl wasn't able to hear the rest of the conversation, but she did start at the mention of 'Slytherin'. Vaguely, she remembered Professor McGonagal saying something about four houses, with Slytherin being one of them. What was so important about these houses anyway? It was a question she needed to remember to ask Mr. Potter, since he seemed to be the most level-headed Auror she had yet met.

Everyone else was paired off relatively quick, and Meryl didn't notice it was time to go to her partner until Johnny hit her on the shoulder. "I'll see you after class, I suppose."

She flashed a smile and turned to go to Avery. When she sat down he shifted so they were facing each other; his eyes were a pretty brown color, darker than Johnny's, and now that she was closer, Meryl could see that he had a nice smile. And what she had mistaken for maybe a little extra weight on the train turned out to be muscle. In other words, this was not a guy to be messing with.

"We haven't formally met," he said. "Gregory Avery. I'm from the Slytherin house. You weren't paired off to a house, were you?"

So, another Slytherin. Well, this guy seemed fine; maybe Albus' comment was just a little rivalry playing in to the social spectrum of the school. "No. McGonagal said something about exchange students not getting put in a house; it didn't make much sense to me. We don't have houses in America." At least, Meryl assumed they didn't. Hopefully this guy didn't know any wizard from the U.S. When she said this, Avery looked slightly relieved. "I'm Meryl Lane. I'm from Colorado...if you know where that is."

He shook his head. "Nah. Never paid attention to geography. Didn't seem important. You ready for this assignment?"

Meryl shrugged, not sure whether to be worried or not. If Mr. Fidwillen had said "go derive these equations", then she would have been concerned. Thankfully, this was not a math class.

"I don't know how stupid he thinks we are; we _are_ in our seventh year," grumbled Avery, and Meryl nodded in agreement. So this was an easy assignment.

"Maybe he wants to get a feel for where our skill level is," she suggested. "I can't imagine everybody is...up to snuff." It was a feeble attempt to make conversation, especially since Meryl really had no idea how to discuss transfiguration like a normal student. Mentally, she started going through the charms in her head that would turn the balls into animals, just to make sure she remembered them. Good thing she had reviewed them last night...

"Well, he should be impressed by the Slytherins, then. We're all excellent wizards and witches, probably the best in the class. _Lepusfieri_."

A small red ball vanished to be replaced by a large, furry rabbit that was now sniffing the table with relish. It was cute, but she had always rather disliked rabbits on principal; her mother had a garden, and it was those little varmints that tended to eat everything up. Meryl smiled and put a large yellow ball on the ground, deciding to do an animal she _did_ like. "_Equusfieri_."

A tall, tan horse erupted from the ground and stamped impatiently. The pair next to them shrieked in terror (it was two girls) and Mr. Fidwillen looked up from across the room, is glasses nearly sliding off his pudgy nose. Upon seeing the large animal, he ran over, clearly flustered, waving his wand wildly. The horse disappeared only to become the yellow ball again. "No large animals, class! Small, manageable ones, if you please." He glared at Meryl before turning to help another pair.

"Not bad," smiled Avery, picking up a green ball. "I guess you Americans do know your magic. _Lacertafieri_." A lizard the size of Meryl's head appeared in Avery's hand and started crawling up his arm.

"Of course. What do you think, monkey?" Meryl held up the yellow ball again.

"You sure its 'manageable' enough?" he countered, a teasing gleam in his eye.

"_Monachusfieri_." A monkey started jumping around the desk, yowling incessantly. Mr. Fidwillen looked over again with an accusatory eye, but didn't say anything; though when Johnny looked over he grinned and gave a thumbs up. She smiled back and turned to face her partner. "So, is there anything important I should know about Hogwarts? We got here kind of late last night."

Avery glanced up over another ball. "I know, I saw, along with the rest of the school. You three were a mess, you know. Everyone was talking about you in the common room; "the mysterious exchange student". I don't see that other student, though. Not the one who sat next to you in class—the other one."

"Oh, um, that's my brother. He's a...a..." Meryl frowned. What was that word again? Squid? No...

"Squib? Oh. That's...that's tough." Avery shifted again and gave her a strange look.

"Yeah, well it doesn't bug him too much since he's a muggle—I mean, since we live around muggles. He just...acts like a muggle mostly. He wanted to come, and the school saw nothing wrong with it, I guess."

Avery wrinkled his nose slightly, but his glance was suspicious. "You live with muggles? Like, in the same town?"

Meryl sensed a certain amount of hostility from him, and she frowned. "Well, yeah. Wizards are outnumbered there. It makes sense to live around and with muggles."

"Oh."

Meryl's frown deepened a little, for Avery's tone was not welcoming. "Do you not like muggles?"

He shrugged. "I...well, I suppose there isn't anything _wrong_ with them. And if a muggle shows magical tendencies...fine. But I just think the whole wizarding population makes them more important than they should be. Not to mention they encourage to interact with them way too much, especially after the Dark Lord was defeated. I suppose that makes you another muggle-lover." His eyes darkened a little at this last sentence and he glanced up again suspiciously.

Meryl looked down at the desk and curled her hands. "I just assume treating everybody equal was common courtesy. Apparently, I am drastically mistaken." She looked up to a very frustrated and uncomfortable Avery.

"Listen, it's not that...well, I mean...muggles and wizards should stay separate. The Ministry makes such a big deal about keeping ourselves hidden from them, so it's only _sensible_ to ignore they exist. The non-magical ones, you know. Just let us live our lives and let them live theirs."

"Muggles aren't a different species," growled Meryl. "You don't have to say your a wizard, but at least treat them like everyone else."

Avery rolled his eyes and leaned back; obviously, he was no longer impressed by Meryl in any way, shape, or form. She raised her wand to transform another ball, but a voice distracted her.

"You're gonna pay if you don't cooperate, Avery," hissed a boy. He was tall and thin with a long narrow face and curly dark hair. Meryl wouldn't have seen him if he hadn't leaned over from behind Avery to hiss in his ear, and it was clear the boy meant the comment to only be heard by him. She would have expected the large Slytherin to wave him away like an annoying fly, but instead his face contorted into a worried glare. "If you think your family can get out of this without--"

"Who are you?" snapped Meryl, her hazel eyes studying the new boy warily. After her argument with Avery, her mood was a bit more on edge; of course, bullies of any type made her mad, thanks to her own older brothers treating her like dirt often enough.

He seemed surprised at being addressed, but when seeing her, sneered. "Eric Rutherford. I suppose your the new student everyone's talking about. The one from last night."

Rutherford? She squinted her eyes, trying to decide if he resembled the Rutherford she had seen in her first vision, but couldn't come to a real conclusion. "Yes, I am. And _this_ new student would appreciate it if you would stop distracting her partner."

"Mind your own business," he said glaring at Meryl, his lip curling up into a nasty expression. "I can talk to whoever I want whenever I want, and you can't stop me."

"Let me make this as _monosyllabic_ as possible," she retorted, leaning forward, her face becoming hard and menacing. "Bug. Off."

"Stop eavesdropping," Eric snarled. "I'm not some one you want to be messing with." His voice was a low hush, preventing anyone around from hearing their conversation.

Meryl snorted—as if she hadn't heard that threat before. "If you think a wannabe twit like you is gonna scare me off, you've got another thing coming."

"What you going to do? Tell the teacher? I'm shaking in my seat already." His sneer widened, making his face even less bearable to look at.

"How about hex you till you don't know which was is up?" She fingered her wand in plain view of Eric and raised her eyebrows. "Of course, if you don't mind losing a limb or two, it could be pretty fun."

Meryl's bluff seemed to have worked, for Eric turned away, his expression surprised, leaving a still very agitated Avery. "How do you know him?" she asked once they had the table to themselves again.

"Family connections," Avery muttered, not quite meeting her gaze.

"Why did you let him bully you like that? He's a creep."

He bit his lip and looked at her none to kindly. "It doesn't matter."

"You could take him out no problem."

Finally, the Slytherin cracked a small grin. "Maybe physically. The little freak."

"Five minutes!" called out Mr. Fidwillen. "Miss Garber, you need to have more than a mouse for me to be impressed. And Mr. Finnigan, that coati is bouncing each time it takes a step. I would suggest fixing that."

Meryl sighed and transformed another ball into a parrot that immediately began flying around the room squawking loudly. "Well, this was fun."

Avery turned the remaining ball into a raccoon and leaned on the table. "Yeah, I suppose. Um," he shifted again, this time actually looking at Meryl in the eyes, "are you a muggle?"

This was not a question she had been expecting, though she should have known it to come. But now she didn't know how to answer. Seeing as Forth had encouraged her to tell the truth, but twist it so her family was magical, Meryl decided it was the best option provided. "Yes, I am. Both my parents are too; they also hold wands." She gave him a stare that asked, _do you have a problem with that?_, but his face was blank.

"Oh."

The awkward silence that had crept up was broken by a loud roar of anger from Mr. Fidwillen.

"Who's *#$& bird is this? It's crapped all over me, and I want it cleaned up now!"

In dismay, Meryl realized he was now attempting to hex her parrot, and she sunk lower into her seat. The first day, and already things were going badly. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw Avery smirking at her.

Well, maybe not all things.

********

KNOCK KNOCK.

Meryl pounded at the large oak slab that served as a door to the hut of Mr. Rubeus Hagrid, and consequently, the current home of her brother. The teachers had their own lodgings in the castle, but many were only accessible if they held a wand, and seeing as Marshall was not magical, he needed to be somewhere where that was not an issue. This was the reason he was assisting and living with Hagrid, who, though their meeting had been brief, Meryl decided she would get along with quite well. She was actually visiting to see how Marshall was doing the first day on the job.

Barking was heard from within and a gruff voice saying, "Stay, Fang." The handle rattled, and soon a large bushy head came out of the door. "'Ello there. Wha—oh! Meryl! Come on in. _Down_, Fang!"

A black slobbery dog had shoved his way beyond his master and was now attempting to lick off Meryl's face with gusto. She only laughed and petted the animal; dogs didn't scare her in the least. But she did need to remove him if she were to enter the hut, and after two failed tries, she managed to push him off and get to the table. To her surprise, there were two people already here, Albus and Rosie from her Transfiguration class (as well as Herbology. Rosie also turned out to be in History, which Meryl had decided would be the dullest class on her schedule). They smiled warmly, and she returned the favor. "Rosie Weasley," she said, extending a hand. "I've heard a lot about you from my dad."

"Really?" Meryl didn't realize Mr. Weasley would share such secret information with his daughter.

"Yeah. Kept on telling me about the new exchange student this year. Also said I ought to show you the ropes on how Hogwarts worked since your school—the Academy, right?—didn't work the same way as here."

Ah. So Mr. Weasley had told her _that_.

"Um, yeah. That would be nice."

"Tea?" offered Hagrid, and Meryl nodded.

"So, did your school have a quidditch team?" asked Albus excitedly, his long body leaning half way across the table.

_What the heck is quidditch?_, Meryl thought to herself, but nodded noncommittally.

"Do you play?"

"Uh, no. Never really got into it." Good, safe answer. It was partially true; quidditch seemed to be a sport, and sports had not really mixed with Meryl.

His face fell and he slumped in his seat. Rosie snorted and rolled her eyes. "Oh, ignore him. He's just looking for people to bring onto the team this year. Albus has been made team captain."

He brightened considerably at the mention of this. "Yeah. I'm a chaser. Dad was a little disappointed, but mum was thrilled; she was a chaser for Gryffendor when she was going to school. Dad wanted me to be a seeker like him, but the spot was filled when I was trying out. Actually, now its empty. It's gonna be hard replacing our old seeker. She was good."

Meryl could already sense the usual boy discussion of sports coming on, and to dissuade the conversation, she asked Hagrid, "Where's Marshall?"

Hagrid sat down between her and Albus. "Hmm. I think he's feeding the skrewts. They're only babies now; I'll have to feed them when they grow up because they get pretty nasty."

"Dad was telling me about those," said Rosie. "He hated them."

Hagrid's face was the epitome of confusion. "I thought Ron loved them. He always was so thrilled--"

Albus coughed loudly into his cup, a sound that was suspiciously covering up a laugh. Meryl nodded and spoke again. "Oh, okay. I just wanted to see how he was doing."

"Why isn't he at school like us?" asked Rosie with interest.

Meryl ground her teeth with worry, remembering Avery's adverse reaction when finding out about Marshall's 'condition'. Would they react the same?

Hagrid spared her the answer when he said, "The kid is a squib; but seeing as Meryl here was going on an exchange, wanted to come. Get out of the country for a bit. That's what he said, anyway."

"A squib? Poor kid. Must be tough having a sister so good with a wand," cooed Rosie. Unlike Avery, she looked sympathetic, and certainly _not_ judgmental. "I saw what you were doing in Transfiguration. It was really excellent magic." Meryl blushed a little, but grinned all the same.

"I imagine it has something to do with both his parents being muggle," Hagrid continued. "There's a lot of muggle wizards and witches in America, but when they marry, a lot of times a squib shows up. I guess not enough magic to go around."

"We live in a muggle community," added Meryl quickly, latching onto this explanation, pleased that she was getting more information on the magical world of America (she needed to sit down Johnny and have him go a little more in depth than he had, shame on him...). "So it's not hard for Marshall. He's just like all the other kids there. I think it works out in his favor."

"So how was being paired up with _Gregory Avery_?" asked Albus. "I know Rosie _loved_ working with Nott."

His cousin scowled at the mention of her previous partner. "For heaven sake, Albus, grow up. And it wasn't horrible; Nott isn't as mean as the rest. Now, if I had been paired up with Malfoy, I might be singing a different tune."

"Gregory was fine," mumbled Meryl. "Well...he didn't like the idea of me being a muggle, but he seemed to get over it."

Albus snorted and leaned back. "He won't. He's a Slytherin, and its practically a requirement to hate muggles in order to be in that house. The whole lot of them are disagreeable, arrogant, slime balls. And richer than the king to boot."

"I don't understand this house thing," said Meryl; she still held a suspicion that this hate was more like a team rivalry; like the Red Sox and the Yankees.

"Well, we get sorted into houses. I'm not sure why, but each house represents certain characteristics we are encouraged to develop," explained Rosie, sitting up a bit straighter as she did so. "Gryffendor, the house we two are in, is known for bravery and virtue. Hufflepuff for kindness and loyalty; Ravenclaw for a quick mind and pursuit of knowledge; and Slytherin for...umm...ambition and cunning."

As Meryl saw it, Slytherin was already screwed—nobody likes a smart ambitious person. Those are the ones who end of being the CEO's or politicians of this world, and when was the last time anyone said a kind word about those people? "So does everyone in this school just hate Slytherin?"

"It's not because of the characteristics they have," defended Rosie. "They just aren't a very accepting group of people. Think they're better than everyone else."

"It's exactly because of their characteristics that we hate them!" exclaimed Albus. "Listen; the founder of that house—each house has a founder—didn't like muggles, and wanted only the pure-bloods to be educated. The other three houses didn't agree, but the Slytherin house has never accepted a muggle born or a half blood. Ever. The whole lot of them are conceited, arrogant, prideful little bi--"

"Who wants a biscuit?" asked Hagrid, shoving a plate of what appeared to be brown rocks to the middle of the table. "Baked them this morning."

"Albus! What would your mum say at your language?" scolded Rosie. "And your father has been very adamant that we don't talk about about Slytherins; you're _named_ after one."

"Dad wasn't terribly fond of Snape if you listen to the stories," grumbled Albus, reaching for a biscuit.

"But he wasn't like you're describing a Slytherin. You know, quite a few of the Slytherins are decent and fine to talk to," she said turning to Meryl. "But there are a few...well, their families were not the best of folks." Her voiced grew hushed and very serious. "Some of the Slytherin families were supporters of Voldemort. Death Eaters. Of course, the men and women doing this would be the grandfathers of the kids now, but...oh, I don't know. I'm not saying these families are bad anymore...just...they aren't _nice_, if you get my meaning. Not people you really want to associate with."

"Avery is one of them," said Albus, hunching over to enter the conversation better. "And so is Nott—though, he does tend to be friendlier than the rest. The Yaxley twins are kind of nasty, though I haven't talked to them much since they're sixth years. Travers...Dolohov...definitely families to stay away from. And especially Malfoy. If you want to see the epitome of what it means to be a Slytherin, look at him."

Meryl raised her eyebrows, a little worried now. These were names she had heard Forth and Potter discussing that first night. Supporters of Castor; possibly, anyway. And certainly she would need to keep her guard up around them. Who knew how deep the kids were in this dark magic. And Malfoy had been a name they had discussed in great detail, thought Mr. Potter kept insisting that he wasn't the one (grudgingly, all the same). "Do they work for the Ministry?"

"Almost all of them do. And high ranking positions. And Malfoy is in the Auror department; probably bought his way in too."

"Albus! You know he didn't, your dad keeps saying how shocked he is at how that whole family turned out. They're actually very big supporters of the Ministry now," Rosie assured.

"Only because that's where they're safe," countered Albus. "The Malfoys—and the other prominent Slytherin families for that matter—are not to be trusted."

Meryl looked at him carefully; these were serious accusations to be throwing, and if it was just the talk of a jealous teenager, she knew to discount it. However, Albus' eyes were brimmed with honest worry, plenty of hate too, but worry. Whatever he was telling her, he meant it as a real warning. She took it to heart, but also made a decision; until any of these families proved otherwise, she would treat them like everybody else. Almost, anyway.

Footsteps were heard outside, and in came Marshall, a little out of breath and panicked. When he saw Meryl, the panic vanished, only to be replaced by anger. "Johnny called me and said he had no idea where you were! You had me worried sick!" He then noticed that Albus and Rosie were here.

Meryl furrowed her brow. "Listen, just because Johnny..." she fished around for a suitable phrase that didn't give anything away, "...is paranoid doesn't mean I need to tell him where I'm going every second of the day."

Surprisingly enough, Marshall grinned at the comment. "Okay, fair enough. But he also said that you needed to go up to the dorm before dinner for something important. I'll walk with you there."

He waved at Hagrid and nodded to the two cousins, and Meryl, with quick goodbyes, followed him out.

*******

"I don't think you entirely appreciate the severity of the situation," argued Johnny. They had hardly walked past the angel when he leaped upon them, demanding a suitable explanation. Meryl didn't see why he needed to be aware of her every move, and had said as such.

"Don't you think it would look a little weird, having me tell you everywhere I go? We're just exchange students. And I thought I came here to be educated, not stalked."

"You came her to be easily protected."

"_Hello_, I have these stupid powers; and I'm learning to use them. Pretty soon, I'll be a better witch than you, and I won't need protection. And I don't recall Forth saying anything about you following me around."

"I've already gone through school; and yes, actually, it is my job to be following you around."

Meryl narrowed her eyes. "What, are you watching me instead of Mr. Weasley?"

Johnny didn't look at her anymore, instead studying his nails with more interest than they deserved.

"I don't want to be watched!" she practically screamed. "_Why_? Why are you doing this?"

"You have these powers, and we don't know what could happen!" he yelled back. "It's like a kid getting a car, but the parents don't actually know how to work it. They're just guessing!"

"Those are pretty stupid parents."

"Agreed, except _your_ car can't be removed. What we want to do is make sure you don't kill yourself, or that the powers kill you. We don't know what we're dealing with, only that you can help us defeat Castor. But," his face grew very serious, an unusual emotion for Johnny to show, "we don't want to make you a casualty if we can help it. We want you to _live_."

Meryl could feel herself softening at his plea; Johnny wouldn't lie to her, especially concerning something so serious. Sighing, she collapsed into a chair. "Okay, you win. Just don't be a...creeper about it. And I'll let you know where I am so you can keep good tabs on me."

Marshall was grumbling about something after this exchange, but before anything more on the topic could be discussed, green flames erupted from the fireplace with a loud roar, and out walked Mr. Forth, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Parker. She jumped from her seat at the noise and the scene, and Marshall swore in surprise. Johnny, of course, sat calmly on the couch. "Good evening. We have dinner in an hour, and since we managed to miss it last night, we certainly don't want to miss it today," he greeted. "So, let's get down to business."

Forth nodded and sat next to Johnny. "Sorry to scare you, Meryl. Did Johnny not tell you about the Floo Network?"

Meryl glared at her fellow student. "No, he didn't. I suppose you'll explain?"

He laughed and slapped a blushing Johnny on the back. "It's just like a transportation system. You throw a little powder in, step into the fireplace, say the name of the location, and it takes you there. Painless and usually trouble free...unless you try to go somewhere not connected. Then it can get rather nasty."

Mr. Parker coughed softly, turning all attention to himself. He was a shorter, pudgy man that was balding, and Meryl really couldn't understand how such an unimpressive figure could possibly be the head of the department of anything, let alone the aurors. But, alas, he was, and he now wanted all attention to be on him. "I've only come this once; I'll try to be present when I can, but with the situation in Scotland—you know, that old clan uprising and whatnot, nasty business—I regrettably can't focus all my attention on this, which is vastly more important. I did want to be here for the first meeting, however." He smiled a strained smile at Meryl and sat down next to Forth.

"Okay, so I'm going to try and have a set agenda for each of these meetings," the blonde agent explained. "Just to make things easier. Johnny, you'll be writing everything down." At this, he waved his want and a laptop appeared in Johnny's lap, on and ready to be used. "First, have you had any visions lately?"

Meryl leaned back and fidgeted with her fingers, feeling like she was being interrogated. Not a pleasant feeling to be sure. But, she sighed stolidly and answered the question. "Yes. He was in a forest...in the mountains. I've already told Johnny most of it, but basically, he was sending people out to get supporters in Russia. They're covering just about everywhere in the country. The people there were Redding, Mayson, the Carrows, and two men I didn't recognize. But one was fairly tall and large. Then there was Vanessa. She was sent to search for Morgono."

"_What_?" gasped Forth, leaning toward her more. "He thinks Morgono is still alive?"

"Yeah. He knows I'm in his head—I guess he can feel it—and assumes it Morgono. It doesn't seem like he has a warm welcome laid out for him though."

Johnny was rapidly typing everything in, and the remaining three men exchange meaningful glances. "Okay. That was all you saw? Then we need to focus on identifying those other two men. Tall and large...Potter, can you think of any Slytherins who would fit that description?"

Mr. Potter shrugged. "Not to my immediate knowledge. I'll put people on it though."

"Why does it have to be a Slytherin?" Meryl asked. "Couldn't it just be anyone? I mean...that Rutherford guy...he said something about being a Ravenclaw during my first vision."

"She's right," piped up Parker. "It could be anyone. Though I am personally doubting any Hufflepuffwould do such a thing—not that I'm biased for my own house, but how many Hufflepuffs have sided with dark lords in the past?—regardless, we do need to think about watching others who act suspicious. We aren't dealing with Voldemort, though we should keep tabs on all his old supporters. However, Potter, if you could get another team together to watch the higher ranking members of the Ministry; I have a feeling they're more prone to lean toward someone powerful."

More typing and nodding from the various men.

"Does Rutherford have a family? Like a son?" she asked when people seemed less distracted.

Mr. Potter was the one to answer this time. "Yes, he does. A wife and three kids. Why?"

"Well, there's an Eric Rutherford in my Transfiguration class, and he wasn't the nicest person I've met. I'm guessing it's his son since he resembled the bad Rutherford a bit. I was just thinking...well, what if he's, like, a spy?" She had intentionally not mentioned Avery and Eric bullying him; partly, she was remembering what Albus had said, but mostly she didn't want to make this more complicated than it had to be.

The four men exchanged raised stares, and Meryl knew they didn't quite agree with her hypothesis. "I doubt it," said Forth, finally. "It wouldn't be Castor's style. He—and Morgono—never used children in any of their works or attacks. They were...how do I say this correctly...pro-family? They wanted people to marry and raise little witches and wizards; of course, ultimately it was to educate these children and make them an army of Morgono supporters, but they thought children should stay at home and be educated. It drew quite a few supporters from otherwise hostile groups. As a muggle, you might not understand the spectrum of supporters they had. Of course, only once he had gained enough power did he show how evil he was, but that's another story. No, I doubt Castor would allow Rutherford's son to be involved."

"You kept citing Morgono," insisted Meryl. "Castor is somebody entirely different, and according to what I saw in that vision, Castor wasn't happy with his old friend when they were split up. He wants to bully him into submission, via Miss Vanessa McKenny. I think--"

"You have enough to worry about without spying on fellow students," assured Forth, patting her kindly on the shoulder. "I know you're going through a lot, and I think it will help if you just focus on living your life like a normal teenager while you're here. You know, make friends, play sports, take a night off from homework and walk around the grounds. Don't worry about the dirty work—that's what we're paid to do." He smiled again, a very confident smile that put Meryl more at ease. She knew they meant well, and were doing everything in their power to resolve this.

"Okay, so there's nothing more I can think of if we don't have any new names," sighed Parker, rubbing his bald spot thoughtlessly. "We'll have people checking out suspicious behavior...damn, this is going to be hard pinning anybody down. And we don't even know if these two fellows are from the Ministry. I don't suppose you saw them before? In your previous vision?"

Meryl shook her head.

"It's a place to start," he mumbled. "I suppose you have a method of alerting us when you've had a vision? We won't have much reason to visit unless it's important and urgent."

"We have our phones. Meryl will call me when she has her visions," explained Forth. "And we'll come during this time, or after dinner, if that works better. And Marshall, you of course are expected to be attending these meetings. You might not be magical, but this is your sister, and I'd assume you'd want to know what is happening with her."

Marshall jerked in surprise when Forth talked to him, but nodded enthusiastically.

The four men stood up and Parker headed toward the fireplace with Forth while Johnny trailed behind. They were talking about something when Meryl realized Mr. Potter had come up next to her and Marshall.

"Listen, I know Forth is disregarding the fact that Eric Rutherford is here at school, but _you_ shouldn't," he mumbled. "You have a good reason to be suspicious of him and any motives he might have; Castor is not Morgono, and I don't put it beyond any dark lord to use even teenagers as a weapon. Keep a close eye on him, and let me know if he does anything strange. Within his position as a student at Hogwarts, he could do a lot of damage to this operation. _Both_ of you ought to be watching him." He looked meaningfully at Marshall. "Especially you. As a teachers aid, no one is really going to pay much attention to your actions. You're in the best position out of all of us to get information, and I'm surprised Forth isn't taking advantage of that." He handed them a slip of paper, and when Meryl opened it up, she saw a number. "It's my own cell; Forth wanted me to get one for contact purposes." Mr. Potter gave a wiry grin. "It's kind of neat. The cell phone, I mean."

Meryl returned the grin and slipped the paper into her pocket, waving goodbye to the three men as they disappeared from the fireplace. Johnny came to stand next to her and Marshall, smiling a bit. "This should be fun."

Meryl didn't say anything in response, just put her arm around her brother. _If only it was_.


	7. Stop It!

AN: Sorry for the late updates...college is hard to adjust to! Kind of...at least, time wise. Anyway, enough of my random rambling, which I know doesn't truly interest you.

This chapter is rather short, but I really just wanted to focus on developing relationships. Yes, Albus and Rosie will be playing critical roles, but the Slytherins are just as important (why else would I keep mentioning them?) And so enter the next main characters...though their moment now is not very big.

Thank you to those who are reviewing! And following my story, for that matter...I really am quite proud of it seeing that it is my first HP fic.

As always, enjoy.

* * *

Meryl glanced around the classroom worriedly, tapping her pen (she refused to use a quill. Honestly, why on earth would you still use a defective feather when ball-point worked so much better? These people...). She and Johnny might have both been exchange students, but they didn't share the same schedule due to last minute changes. The class was only supposed to be a certain number of people, and since she was the one who really did need to learn, she took priority in the classes. Johnny was, at the moment, taking Muggle Studies.

Despite the fact the packet of charms, spells, etc was stuffed into her pack, the most prevalent feeling was nervousness. What if someone figured her out? If anyone bothered to take the time to really think about her circumstance, they whole story was really fishy. Not to mention she didn't know all the spells that, as a seventh year, Meryl was expected to know. Though she was learning fast; Johnny had taken time after dinner last night to review some of the basic attacking and defense spells.

People were filing in at last minute, and Meryl managed to catch the sight of Rosie Weasley. She smiled and waved a little, but went to sit with some other friends. Just like a girl.

Meryl sighed and bent over the desk, scratching at it, partly out of boredom, and partly to forget her awkward situation. Johnny could be irritating sometimes, but at least he was company. And funny, and nice, and...well, a friend. It would be nice to have a few friends here.

"Ah, and here comes the Slytherin Clan, late as usual," greeted the teacher, who was standing confidently in front of the classroom. "Take these seats...yes, in the front. If you wanted to get the back seats, you need to arrive a little earlier. I won't take points away this time...though by seventh year, you ought to be able to navigate the castle without getting lost. Don't give me that look, Mr. Malfoy. _Sit_."

Meryl realized with horror that the seats the teacher was referring to were the three seats next to her, and the two behind her. She stopped scratching at the table and tried to look more at ease—like she wasn't already considered a freak for being an exchange student. But to her small delight, Gregory Avery sat down next to her, with the tall blonde boy on his other side, and the cheerful brunette one next to him. She smiled in recognition at Avery, a bit more relieved at being next to someone she was familiar with; he had said goodbye to her yesterday after class, and for that Meryl had decided they were at least acquaintances.

Apparently, she was wrong.

Avery did not return the smile, and instead turned away expressionless to talk with the blonde boy, who was studying Meryl in a very arrogant manner. She turned away quickly to look at the teacher, who was now talking. "Hello again, class. I'm not sure if you know, but we have an exchange student with us this year from America, Miss Meryl Lane." He pointed at Meryl, and all twenty two heads turned in her direction, making her feel like an exhibit at a county fair or a zoo. "I'm Mr. Jarvis, and if you need any help, don't hesitate to ask. I'm not sure how our education compares with yours." His smile was supposed to be reassuring, but Meryl already knew she wouldn't ask for help if her life depended on it. Not in this class. To risky.

"Today, we'll start with some basic review, just to make sure you haven't forgotten everything during your lovely summer vacations. And no, I don't care where you went or for how long. That talk can happen outside of class, Mr. Dolohov."

Mr. Jarvis was speaking to someone behind Meryl, and it occurred to her it must be another one of the Slytherins. The last name sounded very familiar...

The assignment was an essay, which in and of itself was not scary. Meryl was used to writing essays in class, and was awfully good, if she bothered to brag about it. Unfortunately, the topic was on werewolves and the various ways of defeating them, whether it be silver or spells. Meryl managed to make a decent introduction, but was clueless on the rest. Well, she may not be willing to ask for help from the teacher, but she was not beyond asking for some help from classmates.

"Hey, Avery, you know much about this? We never studied werewolves in depth at my old school," hissed Meryl, just so the teacher couldn't see. There were enough other sounds in the room she doubted he could have heard anyway.

He glanced over briefly, but it wasn't a friendly look, or even a 'sorry, I can't help you' look. It was disgusted.

Meryl turned away, trying to keep tears from coming, in which she was successful after a moment. But despite being able to control herself on the outside, her inside was fuming with anger. How _dare_ he ignore her? What right...what _thing_ made him suddenly superior to her, so much that he refused to recognize her presence? Albus had been right—these Slytherins were slimy, nasty, little arrogant--

The classroom disappeared to be replaced by a high vaulted ceiling in a wooden building. Inside were about thirty people, and through the murmurs, Meryl could make out the Russian language. With a start, she realized it was the Russian support Castor was wanting...well, at least some of them. The Russians—maybe five or six people—were set to the left and talking, hence the reason she had picked up their accents. The remainder of the people were lounging around the room on chairs or desks. Castor seemed to be sitting down in a very comfortable seat.

"Welcome to our ranks, friends," he greeted, but his tone was not happy in the least. "Reynolds, was this the best you could do?"

A slight figure of a man stepped up, clearly concerned, and next to him, one of the large men from her previous vision came next to him. "Many of our previous friends were dead. These were those that survived," explained the large man.

"I'll ask for your opinion when I want it, Harding," snarled Castor, now standing up as well. "I will be expecting a better turn out your second time; if you don't get triple this number, I would suggest _not_ coming back."

"Sir, these are the people we know," defended Harding again, motioning to the sullen faced Russians.

"They know people, yes? And if you run out of acquaintances, then use other methods of recruiting. Have you even attempted using the Cruciartis curse, Harding? No, you...what do you say...Hufflepuffs?...I would bet you never even tortured a spider."

Harding didn't say anything, simply stood by his friend silently.

"And you, Reynolds. What are you? A Ravenclaw as well? I would think you clever enough to think up alternative methods of persuasion. Maybe you just need an example. Here, Mayson bring out the child."

Mayson disappeared into another room and returned with a small boy about eleven who was struggling violently. There was a crash from the same room, and and man and a woman—probably the parents—came running out with two more men behind them. Castor motioned to let the parents stay, but so that they couldn't reach the child; they were crying and screaming something, especially the mother, and the little boy seemed to be terrified.

"_This_ is persuasion," snarled Castor, and he lifted his wand and pointed it at the little boy. "_Crucio_."

He wasn't much of a body, a little stick of a thing with a round face and black hair, and when the curse hit him, his spine curved in a disgusting manner as he screamed in agony. Castor lifted the curse, and looked at the parents. They were both white. But apparently he was looking for something more, because he lowered his wand, causing the boy to writhe and twist as his scream went higher and higher.

Meryl joined in his screaming.

"_Stop it! Stop it! He's only a boy!_"

"Miss Lane!"

Meryl blinked, and Mr. Jarvis was standing over her, holding her head between his hands and shaking it slightly. "_Miss Lane_!"

Her eyes went wide, and she looked at his concerned and, frankly, frightened face, and she knew that the vision was over. Around the room were equally terrified and confused faces, along with some whispering; Meryl could feel flush running up her face and she swallowed, wishing she could melt into the desk and never be seen again.

"Stop it, stop it!" snickered a voice down the row in a falsetto, and her defenses suddenly came up, her Lane temper flaring as strong as ever. Whipping out of Mr. Jarvis' grasp, she turned to see the blond boy sneering—no doubt the one who was mocking her—with his friends snorting by him...including Gregory Avery.

Clenching her jaw angrily, she leaned over and spat out, "Do you generally talk like a girl? It fits perfectly."

The blond raised his eyebrows and ceased laughing; Meryl had a feeling his abrupt stop had more to do with surprise than her own come back being particularly effective, but the result was the same. "You say that to _me_?" The tone expressed every aspect of arrogance and shock that a snob could have.

"Yeah, blondie. Any reason I shouldn't?"

"Well, considering you are certainly not the most mentally stable--" He began, a sneer forming on his face.

"You shouldn't be speaking, Malfoy," said another voice, and to Meryl's surprise, Rosie stood up on the opposite side of the classroom, her face red from anger. So this was the Malfoy Albus had been warning about—obviously, the warning was well based.

"Weasley, don't you know when to pick your fights?" he sighed, as if this whole situation was tiring him to the extremes.

"Enough," demanded Mr. Jarvis, glaring at Malfoy. "You ought to know better, young man. Just because your father is influential and in the Ministry does not make it right for you to bully the other students. Everyone, back to work. Miss Lane, lets get you to the Hospital Wing."

"I'm fine. It was just a lapse."

"Of what?" Meryl shifted, but didn't say anything, and Mr. Jarvis leaned in closer. "You're sick. We need to get to to Madame Pomfrey."

"I'm okay, really. I've already talked to my doctor about it—and it's not a magical issue—and it really is okay. _Confidential_, but okay."

Mr. Jarvis narrowed his eyes. "Miss Lane, even if your doctor believes it's okay--"

"No, I don't need it," she said fiercely. "I'd imagine my mental capacity is still a little higher than some in this class." She glanced furtively in the direction of Malfoy, then at Avery. Mr. Jarvis looked like he wanted to argue, but one look from Meryl stopped him, and with a sigh, he walked off.

"Class, _write_. The essays are due at the end of the period."

There was a lot of shifting and mumbling—not to mention a significant amount of goggling—and Meryl leaned over her paper, still very red in the face, only to notice Avery looking at her, though he was not very good at hiding it. "Eyes on your own paper, Avery," she hissed. "And don't feel the need to speak to me again."

He made no expression, only looking back at his own desk; beyond him, Malfoy was looking very sullen and bored, though he was writing quickly.

Meryl still had no idea what to write about werewolves nor how to defeat them successfully. So she listed a string of simple curses that would eventually knock out the wolf; naturally, all things Johnny had taught her (some of them last night after dinner), but the paper was embarrassing. They were curses that, according to the Agent, a third year should be mastered in, no matter how effective they were. But so was life.

And she certainly had bigger things to think about than writing this paper. Already, not hardly two weeks after her first vision, Castor was gathering supporters. And it seemed he was proving successful...though he was certainly not content with what he had. How _many_ did he want? From what little information she had bothered to listen about Voldemort and his 'reign of terror', it seemed his support couldn't have been more than a handful of wizarding families, and all from Slytherin. For that matter, it seemed only a few of the house was in full companionship with him and his ideas. It seemed Castor wanted to go one step further and raise an army. It was a frightening idea, especially after watching him torture that little boy. Meryl shuddered, suddenly realizing the severity of the situation, but feeling very alone at the same time; no body here knew about Castor at all, nor the danger they might be in very shortly, and no one here could really help her in the mission laid out before her. She might make friends, but in the end it would be useless because, as far as she knew, true friends were there to uplift you and stand by you in your troubles and trials. How could any friend she made be a real friend if they didn't know the danger she was in, and the real reason for being at Hogwarts?

She breathed in sharply as the class ended and people stood up, handing in their papers and chatting avidly (with plenty of glances in her direction). Avery was still looking oddly at her; she couldn't tell if it was with interest, confusion, hatred, or all three; beyond him, Malfoy let his eyes wander to her person, and upon meeting her gaze, sneered and put on his pack, all the while holding a successful (apparently funny) conversation with Charlie Nott.

Part of Meryl really wanted to scream—not cry, just scream. Of course, out of practicality, she didn't, only setting her jaw angrily and not meeting a single look, but when she was almost out the door, a hand stopped her. Thinking it was Mr. Jarvis, she turned around and, with a very rude look in her eyes, opened her mouth to inform him that if he dared to try and take her to the infirmary, she would personally put him there herself, but instead saw Rosie Weasley standing there with a worried face. Meryl wiped the offending expression off her own and smiled a little.

"Are you okay, Meryl? What Malfoy did--"

"Nothing I can't handle," she assured with a wave of the hand. But then it occurred to her that Rosie had been the one to dissuade the possible dirty outcome, and that she ought to be very grateful for having someone stand up for her. Guiltily (for she _was_ grateful), she added, "But thank you. What you did...well, it meant a lot."

Rosie grinned back. "He wasn't expecting you to say anything. He's not used to being talked back to."

They began walking down the hall, and Rosie waved goodbye to the friends she had been sitting with. "Why not?" Meryl asked.

"Oh...Malfoy is very popular at the school. I mean, he might be a Slytherin, but after Voldemort was defeated, people kind of stopped worrying about house differences, especially when the bad Slytherins were locked up and their families denounced them. Actually, not all the families denounced them...but most. You heard a lot of hate from Albus the other night, and I'm not one to say the Slytherin house is the most welcoming, but a lot of Albus' bias is due to Quidditch and my father. He's never spoken highly of the Slytherin house, or the Malfoy family, for that matter."

Meryl nodded silently, but found the information interesting. Disregarding that the question might seem strange, she asked, "These families that denounced...do you know which ones _didn't_? You said there were many."

Rosie shrugged. "The Goyles. I only know they did that for sure because they used to be pretty close to the Malfoy family, and when they didn't denounce everything, the Malfoys made a big deal of ostracizing them. It was all over the news because there was an attempted murder of Draco Malfoy. But personally," and here she lowered her voice, "I can't completely believe that the families _really_ meant everything. I think they did it to get the Ministry off their back. Like, I'm almost _positive_ that Scorpius and his family visit his grandfather often, and a lot of the families were able to stop the Ministry from searching their things, without getting convicted."

"And how is that possible?"

"They hid everything. The problem was, the Ministry never had proof that the families had these things, but it was almost certain. Grandfather, mine, knew for a fact that they had dark objects in their attics. But the law is all about proof." At this Rosie sighed.

"Well...thanks for everything anyway," finished Meryl, rather lamely in her opinion, not sure exactly how to steer the conversation from here. "It seems like you and Malfoy don't have the best history, though."

Rosie actually smiled at the comment. "No, our families are infamous for...highly disregarding each other. I really wouldn't care much about it, except that he's such a prat, and quite a dirty quidditch player. I've had some friends say he's capable of being decent; I have yet to witness that." Glancing out of the corner of her eyes, she smirked slightly. "It looks like you and Avery are going to have a bad history as well. I saw how you glared at him."

Meryl did scowl at this. "He was being perfectly normal to me until he found out I was a muggle. And then he just...I don't know."

Rosie shrugged and opened a door for Meryl. "These Slytherins are something else. Just as a piece of advice, I'd try to steer clear of them."

It was advice Meryl knew she didn't need to hear twice. Following it would prove to be more difficult than expected, however.


End file.
